


Two Halves of a Blue Sky

by dea_liberty



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Falling In Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dea_liberty/pseuds/dea_liberty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had tried to get used to the attention fame had brought him - had learned to at least pretend to deal with the rumours and speculation about every aspect of his life, had learned to pretend to be all right with the paparazzi shadowing his every move, had learned to pretend to cope with too-many-fans mobbing him whenever he went anywhere - but after being outed all too publicly, it all became too much. A break from it all on island in the middle of the Pacific, far away from everything and anything seemed to be just the sort of thing Harry needed.</p>
<p>A distraction was even better, especially when it came in the form of a gorgeous surfing instructor with a smile that could outshine the sun - even if a summer romance hadn't been on the original agenda. A heart-shaped island in the middle of the ocean was probably sort of place to fall in love. But Louis had his own reasons for being in Tavarua, and those might just mean that neither of them get the happy ending they're looking for.</p>
<p>Notting Hill-esque AU set in Fiji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Halves of a Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, here we go. This is my little bit of fic written for the second round of the One Direction Big Bang. Apart from the fact that Tavarua really is a [heart-shaped island](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v478/dea_liberty/tavarua.jpg) in Fiji, everything else is entirely fictional. The title of the fic is, of course, inspired by lyrics from One Direction's "Half a Heart". 
> 
> Check out the absolutely wonderful [fanmix](http://mermaidparades.tumblr.com/post/74806729753/alternately-halves-a-ficmix-for-two) by the utterly wonderful [m](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidparades) because it's absolutely perfect!

Harry pushed his sunglasses a little further up his nose and tugged on his hat, glancing around the expanse of the beach in front of him. It was a nice beach, stretching around the entire island; the sand was fine and white, and the water was clear and blue-tinged-green where the coral reef showed through the swell of waves. At the edge of the reef, Harry could see the larger swells of water and the small figures of the surfers enjoying the waves. 

There was a smattering of couples and families enjoying the day. A little girl glanced in his direction and, for a moment, Harry thought she might have recognised him but before he could even think about maybe worrying about how fast people were going to figure out where he was, someone called out to her. She beamed at him, bright and brilliant, before she took off as fast as she could towards the sea. No one else seemed to be paying much attention to him. No one was really paying attention to anyone else - just enjoying their little piece of the island and whatever company they had with them. Harry relaxed a little bit more.

Tavarua, middle of the ocean, Fiji; a small, out of the way and - most importantly - _private_ island resort with just enough people to make sure Harry wasn’t going to go stir crazy during what he’d started to think of as his exile, and hard enough to get to that he was not going to be gracing the front pages of any papers any time soon. It was exactly what Paul insisted Harry needed.

It probably was what Harry needed. He was willing to admit that to himself even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else - not yet, anyway. Admitting it at all felt a little like quitting, like giving up. Like failing. Harry has never dealt well with failure. He wasn’t about to admit that to anyone yet. The breakdown had been embarrassing enough on its own. 

Anyway, whatever Harry’s opinion of the matter was was pretty irrelevant as seen by how fast Paul had managed to get him shipped off to this little island paradise.

(“You’re not doing anything at the moment so you might as well take a holiday,” said Paul. “Everyone takes holidays from their jobs, and you’re about to take yours for the first time in years.”

Harry was starting to suspect Paul wanted a holiday of his own.)

“Mr. Twist?” A prettily-accented voice said quietly from beside him. No matter how many times he’d used a fake name over the years, he never really got used to answering to any name that wasn’t his own. He’d decided to use this one here on purpose; as close to his real name as possible without giving the game away though judging by his response to it, maybe next time, he’d just use “oi you” to make sure he’d at least turn around. 

He offered the receptionist the most charming smile he could manage. “That’s me.”

She smiled back at him and gestured for him to follow her. “Your room is ready, sir. If you would follow me?” 

He followed her away from the front and along the meandering paths between villas, listening as she explained the resort’s facilities, pointing along different forks in the paths that she promised would lead him to them. He listened patiently though he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to remember most of it in about an hour’s time. He hoped, at the very least, there would be a map of some kind in his room and one of those folder-things with all the information laid out for all the idiots who were really, really shit at paying attention. 

Or too preoccupied. He was going to go with that one. Too preoccupied with thoughts that he just _couldn’t_ stop.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he blurted out - and god, that was so fucking rude. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I just - I’m sorry. You were saying - “

“I do,” she said, interrupting him this time - and he felt a little bit better for it. Because she’d interrupted him so that made them even. And also because she’d probably just saved him from making a complete and utter fool of himself. “Mostly because I was the one who talked to Mr. Higgins on the phone, but also because Tavarua is not _that_ cut off from civilisation.” She sounded amused which - thank fuck for that. At least she didn’t think he was a complete and utter idiot.

All right, maybe an idiot - judging by her smile - but at least she didn’t think he was a _twat_.

Harry gave her a sheepish little grin. “I didn’t - I mean, I didn’t think it was? I just… I wouldn’t assume the news would spread. This far.”

“You wouldn’t assume that you’re famous enough?” she guessed, and Harry had to blush a little at how transparent he apparently was being. Thankfully, she just laughed. Again, at least she didn’t think he was a twat. “You really are, Mr. Styles - “

“Harry, please,” Harry interrupted and offered her another small smile. “Just...just call me Harry, yeah? This whole formal thing’s not really my style.”

She giggled and...he hadn’t even noticed the pun. If she found it funny though, he wasn’t going to correct her. “Okay,” she said, nodding. “Harry then. Not everyone is going to recognise you, and even if they do, I think everyone's here to just...enjoy Tavarua. And we are here to make sure it happens."

It was more than a little embarrassing to know that even here on Tiny Island, people had heard about his breakdown. But at least she wasn't making a big deal out of it. 

"Thanks," he said, giving her his best smile. The best that he could manage, all things considered anyway. It was a little forced, maybe, but he just - he was trying not to think too hard about anything. He was here to relax. He was here to just forget all that. Stop thinking about it. Stop anticipating and planning. Just - he was here to live in the moment again. He used to be pretty good at that. 

She seemed to notice his discomfort and went back to the tour, tactfully changing subjects. Harry let out a soft sigh and relaxed, focused on her words, on the island. And on where he was going so he wouldn't get lost as soon as he left his villa again. It was a little bit late to be focusing on that though, if he was being honest with himself, since he’d zoned out for a good part of the walk.

Oops.

"Anyway," she said, stopping in front of a door and gesturing. "This is you. Your bags are already inside. If there's anything else we can get you or if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask." 

"Thanks," Harry said again - and belated looked at her name tag. "Sarah." He glanced back at her and his smile became a little more genuine. "Seriously, thanks."

She grinned. "No problem. I'll see you around, Harry. And please do let us know if there's anything else we can do to make your stay everything you need it to be." She gave him one more smile and a small, formal bow and headed back in the direction of the reception desk.

Harry turned his attention to the bungalow and smiled. It wasn’t a suite or anything like that, just a small wooden bungalow. Steps lead up to a little terrace, and Harry took them two at a time. The room itself, once he’d let himself in, was just as quaint. A double bed took up most of it, framed on either side by the bedside tables. There was a small desk pushed up against the wall, under a window that looked out at the trees surrounding the room. The ceiling fan was whirring quietly and a breeze blew in through the open windows, but Harry spotted an airconditioning unit sitting in the corner - probably for the hotter days when the fans and the windows just didn’t cut it. After inspection, the door at the back lead to the bathroom, which was bigger than he was expecting, and one of the small cupboards opened up to reveal the fully stocked minibar. In another panel, Harry found the TV.

Nothing big. Nothing extravagant. Nothing that was trying “too hard” to impress. Not a “popstar” sort of space.

It was absolutely perfect.

He took his sunglasses off and put them on the table, letting out a slow breath and just relaxing. Trying to relax, anyway. Reminding himself that there was nothing to do here _but_ relax. Which was...different. It was completely and utterly different. He hadn’t had time to really do that in a while. Just to have a moment where he had nowhere he had to be, no one he had to talk to. Nothing and no one to watch out for. 

Just time to himself - time to just be Harry Styles.

It was _weird_.

He shrugged and dropped the room key onto the table, adding his hat, phone and wallet to the pile before he turned his attention to his bags. He was going to start with unpacking, he thought, and then maybe he’d lose the jeans in exchange for a pair of nice beach-appropriate shorts, grab his notebook and head back towards the bar for a beach-appropriate drink. And maybe make a new friend or two.

It sounded like a good - no, a _great_ plan.

***

Harry was really quite proud that he managed to find his way back to the bar without incident - because taking a wrong turn once did not count as an incident. Especially when there were so many wrong turns he _could_ have taken instead. 

It was still early enough that there wasn’t much going on yet; tables still mostly empty with waiters and waitresses carrying soft drinks towards the beach chairs on the sand as opposed to cocktails. The bartender - a comparatively pale bloke with a mop of blond hair who was definitely not a native Fijian - was sitting on a stool, alternating between watching the TV and reading a book. The bar itself was completely deserted.

Harry picked a stool in the corner that let him enjoy the view of the sea - out onto the reefs where someone was paddling around on a surfboard. He put his things down on the bar and made himself comfortable, smiling when the bartender noticed him and walked over.

“Hey mate,” he said in a distinctly Irish accent, his smile bright and friendly. “What can I get you?”

“Um,” Harry answered, shifting a little to look behind the bartender - Niall, announced the name tag happily; there was even a smiley face drawn in as punctuation - at the shelf full of liquor. “An iced tea?” 

“Is that a Long Island Iced Tea, heavy on the Long Island or just a plain old iced tea?” Niall asked, following Harry’s gaze.

He flushed, laughing as he said, “Just a plain old, boring iced tea, please. A bit early to hit the hard stuff.”

“It’s never too early,” Niall shared with a grin, and Harry was reminded that Niall was very definitely Irish. Very, very definitely Irish. “And don’t be fooled, nothing here is ever “boring”.” Which was a little terrifying, if Harry was completely honest. Niall reached under the bar to open the fridge and fetch a pitcher of iced tea - or what Harry hoped was iced tea anyway. “Just checked in?” Niall asked as he poured it into a cocktail shaker.

Why was he pouring iced tea into a cocktail shaker? Harry had no idea. And he was absolutely fascinated. He nodded, making a noise that sounded vaguely like an agreement before adding, “How did you know?” Because he didn’t want to come off as rude or uninterested. Especially when he was the absolutely opposite.

Niall added ice and and something that Harry hadn’t been able to identify before it’d gone in to the shaker and started shaking it. With the tricks and everything.

“Oh,” Niall said, apparently not needing any concentration at all to throw the shaker in the air. Harry watched it spin twice before landing perfect in Niall’s hand again. If Harry had tried that, the lid would probably have opened and spilled the contents all over him. Some people really had all the luck with coordination. “You have that look about you?”

“The ‘I’ve just checked in’ look?” There was a look?

Niall laughed. “The ‘I’ve just checked in, where the hell am I, what is Tavarua, am I really on holiday?’ look. Also known as ‘I’m completely bloody lost, where’s my mobile phone, where’s my schedule, help me’. It’s a common look around here.”

That startled a laugh out of Harry, and he raised both hands up in a gesture of defeat. “You got me. I feel like I’m missing a bloody limb.” Also possibly because he was sitting here, having a merry chat with some bloke he’d just met, and there was neither the crowd of screaming fans nor the necessary security personnel in sight. 

It was _weird_.

“Ha!” Niall laughed, putting the glass down in front of him with a flourish. “Don’t you worry about it. Tavarua will have you unwound and sorted out in no time at all. This place is good for that.”

“I hope so,” Harry answered, probably both on the cryptic and ridiculously dramatic side of things. He was about to apologise for it when Niall burst out laughing again.

“You’ll be surprised, mate,” he said with a wink. “A lot of people get a lot more than they bargained for here. That’s the magic of a tiny heart shaped island in the Pacific.”

“That sounds like a line from a really terrible movie,” Harry said with a snort, grin widening as Niall actually laughed. As Niall - as someone - actually found one of his jokes funny. Maybe this place was a magical fairytale land far far away after all. He was about to (very probably) ruin his run of actually being funny by opening his mouth to add something when he was interrupted by a shockingly loud and very, very delighted peal of laughter coming from the direction of the sea.

“Looks like Maria’s done with her lesson today,” Niall said absently, but Harry hardly heard him. He was more focused on the source of the laughter. Well, not _exactly_ on the source - he wasn’t really paying all that much attention to the little girl. He suspected it might have been the same little girl that had been watching him so carefully earlier but he couldn’t really look to make sure. He was a bit distracted.

And by a bit, he meant a lot.

This was definitely a scene from a really, really terrible romantic movie. Because the guy that had little Maria tucked up against his side was also carrying a surfboard under his other arm - and he was by far the most attractive guy Harry had ever seen. His heart - or maybe it was his dick (let’s face it, it was probably both) - gave a bit of a lurch.

Belatedly, Harry realised Niall was still talking. “...surfing everyday.”

Harry blinked. “I’m sorry,” he said, blushing a little. “I wasn’t - I must have zoned out.” He ignored Niall’s cheshire cat grin. “What did you just say?”

“I said Maria loves being out on the ocean. She spent the first two days begging her parents to let her surf and, eventually, they were talked into it when they were assured we only have the most qualified instructors. Now she goes surfing everyday.” Niall nodded in the direction of the beach where, Harry noticed, Maria was climbing down from her perch on the frankly absolutely gorgeous man’s waist and scrambling over to her parents. “Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry blinked, bringing his attention back to Niall again. “Um. Sorry?”

Niall had the decency (and possibly the training) not to laugh at him. “That’s his name. The surfing instructor. In case you were interested.”

Harry might have squeaked, “What?”

“In surfing,” Niall said patiently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Harry was going to choose to ignore the glint in his eyes because...because. Just because. He was on holiday. He was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, as far away from his own personal drama that had been far too _public_ as he could be. And he was just...he was going to choose not to read into anyone or anything. Because he could.

“I - that’d be a horrible idea,” he admitted finally. “I’m a disaster enough on land. I can’t even imagine how dangerous I’d be in water.” 

Niall snorted. “Suit yourself, mate,” he said obligingly, smile still bright and friendly. “But his name’s Louis. If you’re interested. You know, in case you change your mind.”

Harry’s gaze drifted back to the surfing instructor - to Louis - and he let out a breath, reminding himself that it was a horrible, horrible idea to even consider learning how to surf. No matter how incredible the potential instructor’s arse might be as he walked away from the bar, board tucked securely under his arm. That stuff - the whole summer romance with the fill-in-the-blank instructor - only happened in horrible, cliched movies and most definitely not in real life.

The thought had him reaching for his notebook. _Cliched movies_. Nothing wrong with those - everyone loved those, even Harry. Especially Harry. And there was no harm in letting his imagination get away from him for a little while - drift off to some alternate universe where he could learn to surf and blow the gorgeous instructor away with his charm and wit and talent - and hey, even if that was incredibly unlikely to happen to him, nothing in the world said he couldn’t write it into a song.

***

Harry spent the next morning sunbathing on the beach in front of his bungalow before splashing around a little in the sea. He spent the afternoon walking around the island, exploring, mentally mapping everything to come back to later. He had long enough to explore the place properly, which was just… it was such a nice thought. That he would have enough time to come back to these things - to snorkeling and kayaking, to the gym and the pool and the spa - rather than just have to blaze through it all at the speed of light because he’d be moving to another location, another city, another hotel in a day or two’s time. 

He had made an almost complete circuit of the island by four o’clock in the afternoon, and somehow found himself standing on the beach right in front of the bar, giving him a perfect view of Louis and Maria finishing up their day’s lesson. He ignored Niall’s knowing look because it wasn’t - he _wasn’t_ \- he hadn’t _planned_ it or anything - and settled himself at the bar, facing the sea. 

“Iced tea?” Niall asked, easy and knowing and familiar, and Harry suddenly felt as though he’d been here a thousand times before rather than just the one. It was one of those old, warm, comfortable sort of feelings - one that made Harry think of home and sprawling out on the living room floor, playing scrabble with Gemma while his mum watched them, giving pointers and playing referee from the sofa. It felt kind of amazing.

Harry smiled and nodded, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Niall make it. “How long have you been working here?” he asked when Niall brought his drink back. There weren’t any other customers at the bar so he thought maybe Niall could spare him a few minutes just to chat. Despite the rather unfortunate series of events that ended up leading to his far-too-public breakdown, Harry was still a people person at heart.

“About two years,” Niall said. “Came on holiday with my family and just...decided to stay.” That surprised a laugh out of Harry. “I’m serious,” Niall defended as if laughing meant that Harry didn’t believe him. “I was sitting right where you are, actually, and watching the sunset, and the bartender was droning on about something or other when I realised...hell, why go back to Ireland when I could stay here for a bit. Can’t say mum and dad were too pleased but Greg - that’s my brother - was well chuffed. Said it gave him an excuse to come back.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” Harry said, definitely impressed. More impressed than incredulous or whatever it was Niall was expecting him to feel. Niall was looking at him, apparently trying to figure out if he was mocking him or being honest, and Harry blinked back. Let him look. Harry _was_ being honest; it was one hell of an incredible decision to make. Niall broke into a bright grin as he apparently found whatever he was looking for.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’m glad I made the choice though. I mean, you can always go back, you know? But at the moment, there’s no real reason for me to. Life here’s really fucking perfect already and...well, you know how it is. Go home and everyone’s expecting something from you.” 

“Yeah,” Harry answered, trying to sound non-committal. Did he know it. Maybe he really wasn’t alone in coming to this tiny island to get away from something. He looked over at Niall, trying to figure out if Niall knew who he was and was just pretending not to or… or if he really didn’t know. Harry wasn’t sure which option he preferred, to be honest. And he didn’t actually want to dwell on it.

“Anyway,” Niall said, not even trying to drag anything else out of Harry, a fact that Harry was amazingly grateful for. It made him relax that much more, drop the last of his guard, and complete forget about trying to figure out if Niall recognised him or not. Didn’t seem like it mattered to Niall so why should it matter to Harry? “What did you get up to today? You look less lost - and you’ve only looked over at your phone a couple of times.”

Harry let out another bark of a laugh, clapping one hand over his mouth as the noise travelled. “Sorry, I just...I imagine you sitting there tallying how many days each person’s been here by how often they look at their phones or by a certain look that only bartenders recognise. Like - like you’re looking at the rest of us and there are little charts and graphs and stuff just popping out of our heads? Like in the SIMs or something and - and I’m rambling.”

Niall bursted out laughing and shook his head. “You are a weird one,” he said, but there was a certain amount of affection in his voice. “But y’know…” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not far off. It’s a special skill that you have to learn when you’re bartending - right there on the curriculum next to Mojito recipes and pointless conversation starters. But don’t tell anyone I told you,” he added as an afterthought. “Tricks of the trade and all that. I’d have to kill you.”

Harry laughed again. “Should have known,” he said, trying to look as awed as he imagined he should look, having been told such secret information. And also a little scared because...because he had to keep it a secret. “Cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.”

“Mate,” Niall said with a shake of his head, reaching out to ruffle Harry’s hair without even thinking about it. “You’re a really shit actor.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, I know,” he said, shaking his head a bit sadly. “The fact ruined my childhood dream.”

“You wanted to be an actor?”

It was just… it was so easy talking to Niall. It was like they’d been mates since forever and it didn’t take long for Harry to become mostly lost in the conversation. His attention only shifted when Louis and Maria came out of the water, all celebration and fanfare, and watched in fascination as Louis waved at Niall and shouted, “Make it a large Pepsi for Maria, Nialler! She taught those waves a thing or two,” as Maria laughed delightedly from where she was perched on his shoulders. 

Their eyes met, just for a second, and Harry felt the air punch out of his lungs in a quick, helpless exhale. The moment was broken by Maria kicking her heel against Louis' chest, pointing excitedly at her parents, and Louis bounced her down into his arms and carried her in that direction.

“Louis has been here even longer,” Niall said, and Harry’s attention snapped guilty back to find Niall watching him with another cheshire-cat grin. “In case you were wondering.” 

“I wasn’t,” Harry said, flushing at being caught staring so obviously. “But um. Wow. Really?” 

“Yeah.” Niall shrugged and scooped some ice into a large glass - Harry spared a second to feel a little bad for Maria’s parents - before filling it with Pepsi. “Really, really loves it here. Doesn’t go home much at all. I think he’s been back maybe once the entire time I’ve known him? But he’s fun. You really should consider taking lessons.”

Harry shook his head emphatically again. “Seriously, no. It’s better for everyone that I don’t. Really, really better for everyone.”

Niall shrugged. “Suit yourself, mate,” he said again, almost an exact repeat of yesterday, and Harry wondered if this was going to become a routine. He also wondered how much he would actually mind if it did. Probably not much.

“Anyway,” Harry said, deftly changing the subject. “What were you saying?”

“Before you were distracted, you mean,” Niall teased good-naturedly as he handed the glass over to one of the waiters. Harry ignored the heat on his cheeks to raise an eyebrow and cock his head to the side, indicating for Niall to go on. “Yeah, I’ve been playing for ages. Love the thing. Like a second limb…”

They slipped back into conversation easily, and if Harry was distracted for another moment as Louis strolled back to pick up his board and head to...wherever the staff went to get changed or whatever, then Niall was kind enough not to point it out.

***

After five days, visiting Niall at almost the same time became kind of a routine. Harry was still figuring it out, really, but one was starting to develop. Which was nice. He woke up usually about 8 or 9 o’clock, had breakfast, went for a nice run around the island. In the afternoon, he spent time exploring or snorkeling (he bought some snorkels and some fins just for the cause), occasionally even splashing around in the swimming pool just for a change of scenery from floating about in the sea. 

At around 4 o’clock, he picked up his notebook and headed towards the bar, where he sat chatting aimlessly with Niall when Niall wasn’t serving anyone else, and jotting down notes in his notebook as inspiration struck. And, of course, sneaking glances at Louis and Maria out in the water. And just mostly outright staring when Louis brought Maria back to her parents - glancing away and blushing furiously when he was caught at it.

It had become so routine that he didn’t even look up from where he was typing out an email to his mum as he slid onto his usual stool, frowning as his fingers kept hitting the wrong keys. He huffed out a breath and mumbled, “Hi Niall,” as his phone’s autocorrect changed a word for the three-millionth time.

“I’m not Niall,” said a voice, higher than he was used to and significantly less Irish. And more amused. “But it’s an iced tea for you, right?”

Harry knew that voice. Sort of. His head snapped up from the screen and… and he probably made a vaguely (or very) embarrassing noise somewhere in the back of his throat. One that became even more strangled as Harry took Louis in.

Because it was definitely Louis. His hair was longer than Harry had imagined, and so incredibly fluffy, fringe an artful mess across his forehead - and Harry was...his fingers itched to touch it, wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked. There was a decidedly mischievous edge to his smile and his eyes...fuck, his eyes.

Eyes tracking downwards because fuck, no, he didn’t know how to deal with that look, Harry came to the conclusion that maybe he was just fucked over all. Because Louis wasn’t in a wetsuit. Louis was wearing a tank top that put his range of tattoos on full display - and god, god, fuckfuckfuck, Harry’s mouth went dry with want. He wanted to trace every line with his tongue.

He forced his gaze back _up_ to Louis' face. To Louis' eyes. (Fuck. Those eyelashes couldn't be real.)

There might have been a little more colour on Louis' cheeks, but Harry was too busy worrying about his own uncontrollable blushing to take too much notice of it. Louis was still looking at him expectantly. “Well?”

Harry blinked. He opened his mouth to answer and found his mind completely blank except for thoughts that...he should probably not share. Really probably should not share. He cleared his throat, licked his lips and tried again. “Um. Sorry, what was the question?”

Louis huffed out - actually _huffed out_ \- a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I asked you if I was right in thinking you usually order an iced tea. Niall’s taking a quick break so I’m covering for him. He said you might drop by. I’m mostly just guessing that you’re “Harry” and so guessing that you usually drink iced tea.”

“Um,” Harry said again eloquently. “Yeah, that’s - yeah. That’s me, I mean. Harry. And yeah, I drink iced tea.” He shifted a little awkward, running his fingers through his hair - and fuck, it was probably a mess and he...he probably looked like a complete twat, staring like an idiot and - shit. “Good guess.”

Harry immediately wanted to slam his head against the counter the moment the words left his lips. _Good guess._ Oh bloody hell, Harry was an _idiot_.

Louis gave him another adorably crinkly-eyed smile and looked away to pour Harry’s drink. Harry let out a breath, trying to collect his thoughts, trying to just...remember how to be smooth. He was a multimillion dollar popstar. He could totally do - 

His brain stopped working abruptly as Louis bent down to pick something up and his eyes zeroed in on Louis' arse. Because that arse. Jesus. He looked away guiltily as Louis straightened, turning around to hand him his drink. Eyes on Louis' face. Right.

“It’s not quite Niall’s special - I can never figure out what the hell he puts in there - but I hope it’s all right anyway,” Louis said.

“It’s great,” Harry blurted out immediately. “It’s really great.”

Louis tried - and completely failed - to suppress a smile. “Harry, you haven’t even tried it yet.”

“Right,” Harry said, letting out a breath and laughing a little. He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly and took a sip. He glanced up, lips curling as he smiled around the straw when he found Louis still watching him. At this point, his blush was probably going to become a permanent feature.

“Let me guess,” Louis said, teasing. “It’s great.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head, trying to school his expression into something more solemn. “That’s what I was going to say. Except now I have to change it, don’t I?” He tried to keep his expression sombre. “It’s terrible. What is even in this?”

“Hey!” Louis squawked indignantly. “It’s iced tea, you heathen!”

“You call this iced tea?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and picking up the glass, gesturing in Louis' general direction. “This isn’t iced tea.” He could see Louis also trying to keep a straight face and that made not bursting out into laughter even more difficult. He tried to look stern and thrust the glass in Louis' general direction. “Do you even know what iced tea tastes like?”

Apparently taking that as an invitation, Louis darted forwards, leaning over the counter to seal his lips over the straw in Harry’s glass and sucked, cheeks hollowing and - and - yeah. 

Yeah.

Harry stared. Kept staring as Louis glanced up from beneath those stupidly long lashes at him, pulling back and - and Harry’s gazed zoomed in on his mouth, on the tiny line of saliva clinging to the straw for just a second before Louis licked his lips - and Harry forced himself to meet Louis' eyes.

“Um,” he said eloquently. The blood in his body was most definitely not rushing towards his brain. Louis smiled, and Harry was very, very, very glad he was sitting down because his knees went weak at the sight of it. And he was also very, very glad that he was sitting down behind the counter because...well. There were other parts of his anatomy that were definitely not...weak. “Um.”

“Tastes like iced tea to me,” Louis said, and that was definitely a slight rasp in Louis' voice. Definitely lower than it’d been before. So maybe he wasn’t the only one that was...affected.

“Um,” he repeated, scrambling a bit to find something to say. Finally, after what seemed like way too long with Louis' eyes on him, watching him expectantly, he blurted out, “I want to learn to surf,” at exactly the same time as Louis said, “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

“Wait what?” Louis said, just as Harry asked, “Did you just - ?”

“You first,” they said at exactly the same time. Harry couldn’t help it; he started laughing, snorting slightly as laughter burst out of him, loud and barking. It only got worse as Louis started giggling helplessly, hand covering his mouth as his eyes crinkled up - laughing until they were both leaning against the counter on opposite sides.

“Tommo, did you spike the iced tea or what?” Niall asked, appearing beside Louis, looking at the two of them in complete bewilderment, confusion - and amusement - growing as he just set the two of them off again. He waited patiently as the two of them settled and, finally, Harry did, avoiding looking at Louis and staring at Niall instead, trying very, very hard to control the urge to giggle.

“His iced tea’s terrible,” Harry said, getting the words out in an almost complete sentence, flow of words hiccuping only once as he swallowed a laugh. 

“Hey!” Louis protested loudly. “You said it was great.”

“I did not.”

“You did too,” Louis insisted. “You did. You know you did.” 

“That was before I actually tasted it,” Harry said with an almost straight face. Almost. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as Louis pouted though.

“Right, I take it back,” Louis declared loudly. “You’re officially uninvited to dinner.”

“Hey!” It was Harry’s turn to protest. “Wait, you can’t do that. I haven’t even answered you yet.”

“And now you can’t answer me.”

Harry pouted - and then shifted tactics to look at Louis with wide, pleading eyes. “Louis.”

“No,” Louis said, turning away, crossing his arms - but Harry could see the corners of his lips threatening to tug up and the way Louis' eyes straying back in his direction even as he pretended not to be looking. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Please?” Harry said plaintively. “Please, please, please?” 

“Nope.” Louis even popped the “p” emphatically. 

“Then...what if I ask if you’d like to have dinner with _me_?” Harry asked, sliding his body along the bar a bit so he could try to see Louis' face. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Niall with his hands clasped over his mouth trying very, very hard not to laugh. Harry thought it was a bit of a lost cause, really, but he didn’t really blame Niall. They must look absolutely ridiculous. Harry kind of liked that thought a lot.

“How’s that any different?” Louis asked, turning a little to look at Harry, though he wasn’t facing him yet.

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “You retracted your invitation so...I’m making one instead?” He gave Louis his absolute best puppy dog expression. “Please? I’ll even apologise for saying your iced tea is terrible. I mean, because it was like...great. Better than great. Awesome. Better than Niall’s.”

“Hey!” Niall said from somewhere in the corner, and Louis cracked up, completely unable to keep up the pretence anymore.

“I suppose if you put it that way,” Louis said. “I accept. Probably a good thing anyway,” he added thoughtfully and then shrugged. “I’m not supposed to be asking guests out or anything. It supposedly _disturbs_ them. And might count as harassment or something.”

Harry shifted back so he was sitting straight on the stool again, frowning down at the drink as he considered the implications of that. Like the fact that Louis did this a lot. So it wasn’t anything special. 

Not that Harry was thinking it should be or that he should be or something because...because, well, _Louis_. Looked like some tanned Greek god, and was a surfing instructor and was just...well. This. So he probably had guests falling all over themselves for him all the time. And Harry wasn’t a stranger to the idea of that or anything, and maybe the connection he’d felt or whatever was just… he hadn’t had a lot of time to just sit and talk with someone without being bothered or self-conscious or anything for far too long and - 

Louis' face appeared in his line of sight, worry in his eyes despite the fact that his lips were curled up in a teasing smirk. “Hey,” he said, voice more gentle than it had been. “Harry, it’s fine, yeah? I mean, you asked me. Or...I tricked you into asking me or something. So it doesn’t count or anything.”

“Right,” Harry said, chewing on his lower lip - and looked down as he felt a light tap on his hand to see Louis' finger trailing lightly over his skin. Fuck, even Louis' hands were gorgeous. He glanced up again to meet Louis' eyes a moment later, felt some emotion he absolutely was not about to analyse twist in his chest a little, making it slightly harder to breathe as he watched Louis watching him through his lashes.

Louis bit his bottom lip hesitantly before asking quietly, “Is it…I mean - is the invitation still open?” 

It was definitely enough to snap Harry out of his own thoughts. “Yes,” he said hurriedly. Fuck, he was such an idiot sometimes. He really had no idea how he even became a pop idol or whatever because his head was always in the bloody clouds. “Yes, it really is. Dinner.”

Louis brightened. “Dinner,” he agreed. “Where should I meet you?”

“My bungalow?” Harry suggested. Because it’d be a bit weird, really, to have dinner at any of the restaurants in the hotel when Louis worked at the hotel. Because everyone was technically his colleague and just...yeah, no, Harry was a bit weirded out just thinking about it. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to share. He definitely, definitely liked having Louis' attention all to himself. “At seven?” 

Louis glanced at his watch. “Seven? I should go get ready then,” he said with a grin, pushing away from the counter. 

“Get ready?” Harry asked, voice rising a little as he shifted, leaning forward only to be stopped by the bar. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s not like I can just walk with you back to your room like this,” Louis said matter-of-factly, gesturing at his clothes which looked absolutely fine to Harry. Really fine. Harry had no idea what Louis was talking about it. “It’s a date, yeah?” Louis added whilst Harry was still trying to figure out how to word his argument. “So I’m going to go get dressed up for it.” Louis backed away a few more steps, sliding out from behind the bar. “How about we make dinner at half seven? Give us both time to get ready.”

“Okay, sure,” Harry said automatically - and then watched Louis walk away. His brain caught up with his mouth a minute later and he let out a groan, dropping his head onto the bar.

“What’s with that?” Niall asked, voice amused as he came back to his usual place, patting Harry’s shoulder a little too hard. 

“I don’t know what to wear,” Harry said miserably. “I wasn’t expecting to like..have to dress up or anything.”

“Pretty sure Tommo’s not going to be that concerned with how you dress, mate,” Niall consoled. “He’s just really vain.”

Harry snorted. “But he’s done this before so he’s going to be expecting _something_ \- and what if it doesn’t - what if i don’t measure up?”

“Done it before?” There was something in the tone of Niall’s voice that made Harry raise his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...that stuff about asking guests out and stuff? Like, that’s got to be from experience, right?”

“It’s hotel policy,” Niall explained, but there was still something guarded about his expression, and Harry didn’t have the first clue what he’d said wrong. “Not like - I mean, Louis doesn’t throw himself at all the guests or anything. He’s not some slutty, easy lay, yeah?”

“What?” Harry asked, eyes widening, scandalised. “What - oh, fuck, that’s not what I meant at all,” he insisted. “That isn’t - Jesus. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. I’m not - like, I’m not expecting anything or… I mean. I just - he’s _gorgeous_ \- and it wouldn’t surprise me if - and like, he said - “

“Okay, okay, Harry, breathe,” Niall said, leaning over the bar to put both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Breathe. I believe you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Harry said again quietly, insistently. 

“I believe you,” Niall repeated. “Just looking out for my mate, yeah?” Harry nodded mutely. “You seem like a nice guy, and you’ve been admiring his arse for days.” Niall grinned, bright and easy and open again. “So good on you both. Now,” he continued, patting Harry’s shoulders once before letting go. “I’m gonna suggest you call the desk and ask for Perrie. Think she might be able to help you sort out your romantic dinner and then you can sort out what you’re going to wear.”

***

Harry was nervous. God, that was probably the understatement of the century because "nervous" didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling. It was a bit ridiculous really, considering he'd stood on stage in front of thousands of people before. He'd been interviewed live on TV in front of millions. He'd even had a bloody nervous breakdown in front of more people than he cared to think about. His pictures had been plastered everywhere, in thousands and tens of thousands of bedrooms, he'd received awards, he'd been lumped into the same events and categories as superstars and… and he'd met the _Queen_ for God's sake. There was nothing about a dinner date with a cute surfing instructor that should make him this nervous.

But he was really, really nervous.

Dinner was laid out. As Niall had suggested, Perrie had been absolutely wonderful and seemed only too happy to help Harry set up his date. It wasn't anything elaborate or anything, but somehow, Harry thought maybe - hopefully - Louis might appreciate that. Perrie seemed to think so anyway and since she knew Louis better than Harry did, that was a giant mark in his favour. He hoped. He really, really hoped.

He'd asked for a small table to be set up in front of the bungalow, candles and a rose on the table and wine and everything. Dinner was going to be a three course affair. The first course was already set up on the table while the other two courses would arrive after enough time had passed for them to finish it. Hopefully. If it all went to plan.

Harry was pretty sure it was going to go tits up - but hopefully Louis would just find anything that went wrong funny. He seemed to be that sort of person. At least, Harry hoped so. Because otherwise he was pretty much screwed. 

With dinner sorted out, Harry had a very, very quick shower, patted his hair into some semblance of order and tried to find something to wear. Which turned out to be surprisingly difficult considering he really hadn't packed anything date-worthy. He'd been more concerned about just…getting out of London to think about anything like that. 

Eventually, he settled on the sheer shirt he'd shoved in the bottom of his bag just in case he got a chance to go out. Which was possibly a little…forward for a first date, and maybe way too much for a dinner by the beach thing but…but whatever. It was all he had that would work considering the circumstances and maybe - just maybe - Louis would like what he saw. Harry was definitely hoping that would be the case. So, he'd decided on the sheer shirt and the tightest jeans he'd packed, and then he'd sat on the seat outside the door to wait, picking up a book to pretend to read just because it seemed a bit weird to be sitting there just waiting. 

By the time Louis turned up five minutes later, Harry hadn't managed to really read a single word. And when he actually looked up from the pages to catch sight of Louis, Harry was more than ready to fling the stupid book into the sea. Louis was wearing braces. Actual, honest to god, _braces_ , and Harry was really, really certain he made a really embarrassing sound when he realised it. 

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're - wow."

Louis laughed, tugging on the braces a little self-consciously as Harry stared at him, trying to find something a little bit more substantial to say. But the blood was most definitely not heading upwards to help his brain out. Instead, said blood was trying to make the skinny jeans a very, very bad decision on Harry's part. 

"Hi," Louis said, smiling, hopping up the steps of Harry's bungalow. "You clean up nicely, don't you?" 

"You - um." Harry had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Mostly, he was pretty sure he was still stuck on staring. His reaction was possibly even more unimpressive than it had been earlier when he'd first seen Louis in something that wasn't the wetsuit. "I feel really underdressed," he finally managed to say.

"You're more dressed up than I thought you'd be," Louis said - and Harry might have been imagining it but he thought Louis' voice might have dropped a little deeper as he'd come closer. As he gave Harry a very distinct and obvious once over. Louis cleared his throat a little, and Harry could see the hint of a blush on his cheeks. At least he wasn't the only one surprised. "Though I'm not sure if that shirt counts as dressed up or indecent."

"It's an island!" Harry said, laughing a little, regaining a little confidence because…well, if Louis was affected, that was a good sign, right? "I didn't really pack for a full formal dinner or anything."

"Aw, it's not a formal dinner?" Louis asked, trying to look disappointed, but Harry wasn't falling for it. 

"Not exactly," Harry said, gesturing towards the other side of the bungalow. "But it is dinner?"

Louis frowned in confusion. "We're not going to the restaurant?"

"Nope," Harry said, pleased with himself as he moved to Louis' side, resting a light hand on the small of his back to guide him towards the beachfront. "Thought it'd be nicer if we could have a bit more privacy."

Louis stopped short as the table came into view, eyes wide. "Harry…what - ?"

"Dinner," Harry answered proudly, urging Louis forwards and helping him into his seat, very pleased with himself at Louis' expression. "Our first course is already on the table." 

He took his own seat before reaching up to light the candle. Or, well, to try to light the candle. Try. Because every time a flame looked like it was about to actually catch the wind blew it out.

Louis snorted out a laugh and eventually just covered Harry's hand with his own. "I think we should give up on that," he said, shaking his head and stealing the lighter away. "Because you're making it look like we're cavemen discovering fire for the first time. We can see just fine without it, yeah?" 

"Yeah," Harry said, barely resisting the urge to pout. "It was supposed to be a romantic candlelit dinner!"

Louis laughed again. "Then you clearly don't know Tavarua." Harry pouted a little more. "It can be a romantic moonlit dinner then," Louis finally said, tone compromising even though Harry could see the edge of an amused smirk tugging at Louis' lip.

Harry sighed, mock-sufferingly. "I suppose." But it wasn't like he could stay angry or upset or even embarrassed when Louis was still grinning at him from the other side of the table. He gestured towards the food. "Let's dig in?" 

And then he promptly almost choked on his first bite when he felt Louis' foot sliding over his own under the table. Louis met his gaze with a smirk and mischief in his eyes and, as cliched as it sounded, Harry felt his entire world shift. Fuck, he wanted to see that expression in an entirely different context.

"Um," he said when he finally managed to not die. "So - um. Niall said you've been here ages?" 

"Yeah," Louis answered. "About…four or five years now, I guess? I don't really remember the exact dates or anything anymore. It's wonderful like that here - everything can just blend in together and that's just fine."

"And you've only been home once?" Harry blurted out before he could think it through. Louis frowned, and Harry quickly added, "That's what Niall said anyway." 

“Niall talks too much sometimes,” Louis said, still frowning, and Harry mentally scrambled for something to say that would make Louis smile again. 

“Sometimes?” he asked, grinning a little hopefully and tapping his foot against Louis', trapping Louis' foot between both of his. 

Louis' expression softened. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head a bit. “And yeah, once while he’s been here. Used to go home a lot more the first couple of years, you know? And then it was just - then this sort of became home.”

“What made you stay? At first, I mean,” Harry asked curious. 

Louis raised an eyebrow and just shrugged, gesturing around them. “Isn’t it obvious? I come from Doncaster where it’s just grey and drizzling and boring and...and I came here to this.”

There was still something...not quite right about Louis' expression, something so much more guarded than Harry had seen so far, and Harry was completely at a loss as to how he could make that go away. “I come from Holmes Chapel,” he said. “That’s - um, in Cheshire. Not that far from Doncaster actually. So like - “

“I actually have something to admit,” Louis said, biting his lower lip as Harry stopped rambling and met his eyes directly again. Harry’s stomach dropped. Louis wasn’t gay - no, that couldn’t be it. Louis just wasn’t interested? That was - maybe that was it. Maybe that was why Louis was looking so nervous all of a sudden and - and Harry was - he was going to be fine. He was going to take a deep breath and nod and - and just - nod. After a moment, Louis finally blurted out, “I know who you are.”

Which was...not what Harry was expecting. “What?” he breathed, momentarily confused.

“I um - I know who you are, actually,” Louis said again. “I mean, it doesn’t change anything. I still - I mean, that’s not the reason I asked you out or started talking to you or anything, but you’re sitting there telling me about yourself like you don’t think I know anything and - and I _want_ to hear it, please don’t misunderstand? But I just - I don’t want this to be something that comes up later and then you’ll wonder later and - I just wanted to be honest. About that. But please keep talking? Because not everything they say or they print and stuff is true, of course, and like, I’d prefer to hear it from you anyway and - ”

“Louis, breathe,” Harry said, laughing a little. Louis took a breath, and Harry just smiled at him until Louis started to smile back. “Thank you,” he said when Louis finally started to relax again.

“For what?” Louis looked like he was about to frown, and Harry just couldn’t help himself. He reached out and trailed light fingers over the back of Louis' hand. 

“For telling me,” he answered quietly. “And for treating me like a normal person even though you knew.”

“You are a normal person,” Louis said, turning his hand over and catching Harry’s, linking their fingers together, and god, the fact that Harry could see a blush creeping over Louis' cheek was just adorable. And really fucking attractive. And Harry really, really wanted to know just how far down that blush went. “Well, okay, no, you’re not,” Louis said, breaking the moment by squeezing Harry’s fingers and looking up to smirk at him. “You’re a bit of an idiot.”

“Hey,” Harry whined. “That’s not fair!”

“You are though,” Louis said, not letting go of Harry’s hand, and shit, that grip - firm and tight and certain - should really not feel as good as it did. It shouldn’t feel so _right_.

But it did.

“I mean,” Louis continued. “Who even owns a shirt that see-through? And is that a _butterfly_ on your stomach?”

“Yep!” Harry said happily, glancing down at the outline showing through the shirt before beaming at Louis. “Because I get butterflies in my stomach when I perform.”

Louis stared at him. “That is...so dumb. I can’t believe I find you attractive.”

“You find me attractive?” Harry beamed a little brighter.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Nope,” Harry said, laughing. “And I think our main course has arrived.” He got up from the table and collected his and Louis' plates, taking them back over to the front door, swapping them for the main courses that had been left on the tray there. 

“No one’s serving us?” Louis asked, looking around curiously, as Harry placed his plate in front of him and took his seat again. 

Harry shook his head. “I thought it’d be a bit weird, you know?” he explained. “Like, you work here, and it’d be like making your friends serve you - and then they’d been hanging around and… I don’t know. I thought it might have been a bit uncomfortable for you and for them so…” He shrugged. “I figured this would be easier and much less awkward for everyone.”

Louis stared for a long moment before his lips tugged up and he just shook his head incredulously. “You really aren’t like other people, Harry Styles.”

Harry laughed, feeling his face heating up, rubbing at his neck a bit self-consciously before just shrugging. “Yeah, I know, I’m a complete weirdo,” he said. “So people tell me.”

“In a good way though,” Louis said tone surprising Harry with its honesty, and he looked up from the plate in front of him to see Louis smiling at him. He ducked his head for a completely different reason, smile threatening to split his face in two as he felt Louis' bare feet locking around his foot, toes wriggling around until Louis managed to find some skin and then stilling, just resting there as Louis glanced down and focused on his dinner.

Despite Louis' apparent disinterest - or, well, more accurately, his interest in his dinner - Harry could see the tips of his ears turning very slightly red.

“So,” Harry said. “I’m just some weirdo from Cheshire, honestly. I have absolutely no idea how I became a popstar.”

Louis laughed. “You know, somehow? I can actually believe that.”

***

They were both finding reasons to linger - or, well, no, that wasn’t completely right; they were both enjoying themselves too much to let the date end. Dinner was finished, dessert eaten, plates pushed aside to make space on the table. The bottle of wine had been relegated to the sand, along with the unlit candle and the flower, so they could lean in just a little more, get that much closer to one another as they talked, feet tangled, hands tangled and...and it was amazing. It was brilliant. Perfect. And Harry really, really didn’t want the night to end.

Yeah, it was cliched as hell, but he’d started to accept that a lot of things about Louis made him not _mind_ the fact as much as he thought he might. It was kind of nice to feel a bit like you were in a romantic comedy. At least they always ended up together, living happily ever after, right? Because romantic comedies were an adult’s fairytale, and Harry kind of wanted to believe (even though he knew he should probably know better) that fairytales still existed in some form or another. 

Louis kind of made him feel less jaded than he’d become, anyway. Felt a little more like the “Harry” before the lights and the rumours and the fame. And, of course, before the breakdown. Which was really fucking nice.

“So anyway,” Louis was saying, “Niall had somehow managed to convince Greg to try it. Which was a fucking disaster, I’ll tell you that. You have to get him to tell it to you tomorrow because he tells it so much better, and god, I could never decide which was funnier: the expression on Greg’s face or _Niall’s_.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I’ll have to ask him. That sounds like an adventure.”

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Louis said slowly, hesitantly, glancing at his wine glass, which was empty as well now. “I think maybe it’s time I stopped bothering you, yeah?”

“No!” Harry protested immediately, flushing a little - and laughing, because god, he wasn’t even sure why he was even embarrassed anymore. Louis had proven that he found Harry’s weirdness kind of…”refreshing” was the word he’d chosen. “I mean, no. You’re not bothering me and… I mean, if you have to go, please don’t let me keep you but…” Harry hesitated before he added, “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Somehow, during the course of that last sentence, Harry had moved from his seat to stand in front of Louis, his fingers wrapped lightly around Louis' wrist. Louis blinked up at him slowly before he pushed up to his feet - which brought them nose to nose. Well, almost nose to nose. Nose to nose if Harry just tilted his head down just a little. So he did.

So fucking close. Close enough that Harry could feel Louis' breath against his mouth. 

_Fuck_.

“Yeah?” Louis asked and Harry’s eyes dropped to Louis' lips, watched Louis' tongue flick out to wet them and - 

And that was it. That was all resolve gone. Harry leaned in closer and murmured, “Yeah,” before he closed that distance between them and kissed Louis firmly. Louis' lips were as soft as they looked, warm and wonderful and inviting, and he tasted faintly of cream and wine - and the best part was that Louis was kissing back, pressing in a little closer, tilting his head until their lips locked, angle absolutely perfect.

“Yeah,” Louis said against Harry’s mouth as the kiss broke, and Harry had barely managed to process that before Louis' lips were back against his, pressing more insistently, more firmly. One of Louis' hands slid up into Harry’s hair, tangling in his curls and tugging, pulling Harry even more deeply into that kiss and - and fuck, yes. Yes, that was incredible, brilliant, amazing - and that was Louis' tongue sliding along the seam of his lips, a silent request for entry that Harry was all too happy to give him. Louis licked into his mouth and pressed closer, fitted himself against Harry, tugging on Harry’s hair as he kissed him - harder, deeper, more and more brilliant, stealing Harry’s breath with each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck,” Louis breathed as he pulled away, and Harry whined low in his throat, leaning forward, chasing Louis' lips. Why was Louis _talking_ when they could be kissing? Who needed to - to breathe or anything like that when there was a feeling as perfect and incredible as _kissing Louis_ in the world? Louis only resisted for a moment before he gave in, kissed Harry slow and deep, but didn’t let this one linger, and Harry whined again when he pulled away. The grip in his hair softened into petting, and Harry turned his head to nuzzle against Louis' cheek. 

“Fuck,” Louis said again, voice low as he slid his hand down to grip at Harry’s neck, turning to catch Harry’s lips in an almost chaste kiss, pulling back when Harry moved to deepen it.

“Lou,” Harry huffed, tilting his head for another kiss. “Please.”

“Fuck.” With even more feeling this time, and again, Louis gave in, kissing him firmly - but it was short - _too_ short - and Harry huffed out another breath in frustration.

“Louis, _please_ ,” Harry said plaintively again, sliding his hand down the length of Louis' spine before dipping under the braces at the small of his back, pressing him closer. “Please.”

Louis swallowed hard - swallowed what Harry was pretty sure would have been a whine, and god, Harry wanted to hear it. Wanted to make him make that sound again but louder. So much louder. Wanted to make him moan until his gorgeous voice went hoarse, and then keep going until it was more breath than sound and - and fuck, he wanted that so fucking much.

“Please,” Harry said again, pulling back so he could meet Louis' eyes - and god, that was - that was probably even worse because Louis' eyes had darkened, pupils expanded until there was only a rim of blue, a little unfocused - and he looked so bloody _gorgeous_ , flushed, lips slightly parted, breathing in short little gasps. 

He looked as wrecked as Harry felt.

“Inside,” Louis managed finally, tugging at Harry’s hair again even as he pushed him in the direction of the bungalow, somehow not loosening his grip on Harry at all - hardly letting any space come between them. “We need to be inside _now_.”

Which was a great idea. Harry had only gone a couple of steps, stumbling a little, mostly held up by Louis' grip on him, when he realised that not letting go was actually counterproductive - and shifted, pulled back to curl his fingers around one of the straps of Louis' braces and pulled him along with him. Louis laughed and followed, his hand moving to curl around Harry’s wrist, thumb rubbing over Harry’s pulse, and that was a hell of a lot of incentive to move faster, to push open the door and stumble inside, turning to face Louis again. He caught the other brace strap in his hand and used them to pull Louis back against him, dipping his head and catching his lips in a kiss in the same movement.

Louis took a step back as the door clicked shut behind him, pulling Harry with him as if Harry was going to let go - and Harry was definitely not going to let go - stepped back until he was pressed up against the wall, pulled until Harry was pressed up against him, and then he was pushing back, pushing up against Harry’s chest and moaning low and satisfied in his throat as he licked back into Harry’s mouth with slow, possessive swipes of his tongue.

Didn’t take long before Louis was pulling impatiently at his shirt. “Off,” he muttered between kisses, even as Harry tried to get his body to do something - anything - that wasn’t just clinging helplessly to Louis as Louis systematically destroyed all ability to think. “Harry, take it off.” 

Which meant letting go of Louis' braces - or, as Harry’s brain supplied, taking them off Louis. Taking Louis' clothes off him was a much, much better idea. He tugged them down over Louis' shoulders, let them drop to slide his hands back over to the buttons on his shirt, working them open as quickly as he could, fingers clumsy from needwantplease.

Louis started laughing, breathless and low, reached up to swat at Harry’s hands. “I meant yours,” he said, reaching to tug at Harry’s shirt, forgoing the buttons altogether and just pulling it up over Harry’s head, and immediately sliding his hands over Harry’s skin. 

“Fuck.” He scratched lightly over the butterfly on Harry’s stomach, making Harry shiver, curl slightly, body unsure whether he wanted to get away from that teasing almost-pain-pleasure or closer to it. “You really have a butterfly tattooed on your stomach.”

Harry reached over to finish undoing Louis' buttons as Louis explored his body, as Louis seemed absolutely fascinated by the butterfly, nails tracing the outline, pads of his fingers slipping over the shading, and Harry shuddered as Louis pressed a little harder. He didn’t let it distract him from his goal though, didn’t let it stop him from tugging Louis away from the door enough to slide the shirt off him - and now that Louis was pressed against him like that, hands flat on his chest, Harry took the chance to step backwards, hoping to god he didn’t trip over anything on the way to the bed. He only stumbled once - but that only meant he could pull Louis closer to him, and he hoped it came across as more calculated than clumsy (but judging by Louis' laugh, that probably wasn’t the case) until he finally tumbled back onto the bed, pulling Louis down on top of him.

Louis managed - somehow - to get his legs under him, to shift until he was straddling Harry, biting at his lip before dropping his head to graze his teeth against the _fucking butterfly_ \- and fuck, fuck, fuck, choosing to put these jeans on was definitely the worst idea Harry had ever, ever had. Especially when Louis took the chance to roll his hips, to grind down hard against Harry’s crotch. 

Harry whined low in his throat. “Careful,” he managed to somehow get out mostly coherently. “I’m going to start thinking you like it or something.”

Louis raised his head to blink at him, raising one delicate eyebrow - and if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry could barely make out the blue of his irises, Harry might have believed that Louis was completely and utterly unaffected by this. “Really? Is mocking me a good idea right now?” he asked as he rolled his hips in an absolutely obscene gesture that almost had Harry swallowing his tongue.

Harry whimpered. “No - no, sorry. Fuck, sorry - keep going, keep doing that, please don’t stop doing that,” he babbled, sliding his fingers into the loops of Louis' trousers, encouraging him to stay close, to keep doing that, to - god - never, ever stop doing that.

“Better,” Louis said, and slipped down Harry’s body a bit more, moving so he could start to unbutton Harry’s jeans, trying to tug them down before huffing out a frustrated breath. “Fucking hell, Harry, how did you even get _into_ these?”

“With a lot of practice,” Harry said with a breathless laugh. “How about...you take yours off and I’ll get these off?” he suggested, because he was currently trying very hard to wrestle Louis out of his own trousers and...and while he really, really didn’t want to stop touching Louis at all, the idea of getting his hands on Louis' _skin_ and just...Louis completely and utterly naked and - and it was such a great idea that he could let go just for a moment if it meant them both getting naked faster.

Louis paused before sliding up to kiss Harry, slow and lingering. Harry tightened his fingers on Louis' hips, digging in hard as he leaned up into it, as he arched to press them closer, as he made another soft, desperate sound in his throat - and maybe he _couldn’t_ let go anymore because he didn’t want to. Because it was easier to grip a little tighter and grind up against Louis, get his feet under him to rock up into every movement of Louis' hips.

“Okay, off,” Louis said, sounding a bit less certain and a lot more dazed than he had a few minutes ago, and absolutely contradicting that statement by dropping down to catch Harry’s lips again - and by the fact that he hadn’t stopped rolling his hips down against Harry’s, hadn’t stopped grinding desperately against Harry’s crotch, and god, he felt so good, felt so bloody amazing, Harry could hardly remember what he was even talking about.

“ _Off_ ,” he said again a little more insistently. At this point, Harry wasn’t even sure if Louis was telling Harry or himself. But Harry did eventually catch up with him when Louis lifted off him, sound of disappointment at the loss of friction reflecting Harry’s thoughts exactly - and Harry was about to pull him back down, about to arch up and just _bring_ Louis back close again when Louis' hands went to his own trousers to undo the button and - 

And _off_ seemed like a bloody brilliant idea.

“Off,” he agreed, shifting to slide further up the bed - eyes never leaving Louis' body, watched in rapt attention as Louis slid out of his trousers - even as he shimmied out of his jeans. “ _Fuck_ , Lou,” he breathed as soon as Louis was naked because… _Christ_ , he was beautiful. So fucking beautiful that Harry had to literally remind himself to breathe. 

“C’mon, you need to be naked too,” Louis said, breaking the spell by curling his fingers around Harry’s ankle and tugging Harry’s jeans the rest of the way off - and then stopping. Everything. Just going completely still as his gaze focused completely and utterly on Harry’s body before finally breathing, “oh fuck me,” on a rushed exhale.

And then Louis was _everywhere_. Hands sliding up his legs, up his sides and into his hair as Louis slid back up his body, moved to straddle Harry again - and this time there was nothing between them - just skin on skin, and fuck, that was even better. Harry ran his hands over Louis' shoulders to trace his spine, to brush his fingers over Louis' arse - and _god_ , it felt even more fucking amazing than it looked. 

Louis swallowed a moan and pushed back into it, arched his back and ground down a little harder into Harry’s crotch even as Harry gripped tighter, used that grip to pull Louis against him, shifted them both until every slow, amazing, _brilliant_ roll of Louis' hips meant Harry’s dick sliding along the crack of his arse, and - and that was - that was _good_ , so good, so incredible, wonderful, amazing friction that was drawing low, breathless moans from him even as Louis panted above him, one hand wrapped around his own cock and - 

And that wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all. Not when Harry could be helping. He managed - somehow - to loosen his grip on Louis' arse (tight enough that he had to be leaving marks, and fuck if that wasn’t a mindblowingly hot thought) to curl it around Louis', to stroke him in time with Harry’s thrusts - which made Louis _moan_ \- high and broken and so fucking _incredible_ \- as his rhythm stuttered, as his gaze snapped up to meet Harry’s, as dazed and overwhelmed and aroused as Harry was.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, tightening his grip on Louis' cock a little as he rocked up harder into the next thrust, into the next movement - eyes locked with Louis' as they moved together, finding a rhythm again. “Fuckfuck, so close - fucking close, Lou, please - want you to come on me, want to feel your come all over my skin, come all over the butterfly and - “ Harry twisted his hand on the next upstroke, flicking his thumb over the head of Louis' cock and that was it.

Louis' eyes rolled back before they closed, head dropping back as his back arched and he came hard, moaning low in his throat, come streaking over Harry’s skin, hot and branding, over his stomach, over the tattoo - and Harry dropped his head, put his chin to his chest, let the streaks of come hit his lips, his face.

Louis rested his hands on Harry’s chest as he came down from it, hips moving restlessly - more friction against Harry’s achingly hard cock, enough to draw a whine from Harry’s throat. And that was enough for Louis to open his eyes, moan low at the sight of Harry covered in his come - enough for him to reach back to press Harry’s cock more firmly against his arse, more snuggly between those cheeks before flexing them, finding strength somewhere to move, lift up and angle his hips so the tip of Harry’s cock caught just slgihtly against the rim of his hole - hot and tight and perfect, and -

“Next time,” Louis breathed, raspy and sated and low, as he repeated the action again - over and over and over, words just adding to the perfecthotincredible feeling of his cock sliding against Louis' skin. “Gonna get this cock inside me. S’gonna feel so fucking good fucking into me. Want you to fuck me open, fuck me raw, fuck me until I can’t fucking _move_.” Punctuated that with another roll of his hips, and Harry was _gone_ , crying out as he came, hands clinging tight to Louis' hips to keep him pressed right there, right against Harry, made sure he absolutely couldn’t move away, made sure he knew just how good he made Harry feel.

For a few moments, Harry just tried to remember how to breathe. And how to move. Eventually, it was Louis' finger sliding lazily over his cheek that got him to open his eyes, slow and slightly unfocused. Just for a moment - for the time it took him to realise that Louis was actually dragging his fingers through his own come on Harry’s face with a fascinated kind of wonder and - oh.

Louis pressed the finger against Harry’s lips, and Harry didn’t hesitate, parted them to suck it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and keeping eye contact, watching as Louis' breath caught, watching as Louis' eyes darkened.

“Fuck, you’re - that’s - _fuck_ ,” Louis said with feeling, drawing his finger out only to slam his mouth against Harry’s instead, licking into Harry’s mouth a little desperately, deep and filthy and absolutely wonderful. 

“Dirty boy,” he said breathlessly when he finally pulled back from that kiss, and Harry just beamed at him before saying happily, “Yep.”

Louis laughed, flopping to the side and throwing one leg over Harry’s waist before Harry could even think about moving away. Not that he was going to anyway. He did turn a bit so he could pull Louis more snuggly against his side, making a small noise of complaint when Louis seemed insistent to move away. It wasn’t until he felt fabric sliding over his skin that he realised Louis had reached for a...something - Harry thought it might have been a face towel he’d forgotten to hang up when he’d showered earlier - to clean them up with. 

Whatever it was, Louis threw it to the side a few moments later to curl back against Harry’s side, nuzzling in against his neck as Harry relaxed, making a contented sound. 

“Next time,” Louis mumbled against his skin, pressing a smile into Harry’s neck. Harry’s own smile brightened even though Louis couldn’t actually see it. Harry hoped he could feel it at least. _Next time_. “Next time,” Louis repeated again. “We’re actually going to get around to fucking. Because that was a bit embarrassing right there.”

“At least we managed to get our clothes off,” Harry said, tightening his arm around Louis, keeping him pressed against his side as he wriggled around and pulled the covers over them both. “For a few minutes there, I actually thought we wouldn’t even manage that much.” 

“I don’t even know how you manage to fit your monster cock into those jeans,” Louis said, wrapping himself tighter around Harry and sliding one hand up to absently play with a stray curl of Harry’s hair. Harry hummed contentedly, tilting his head into that touch. “Because seriously, Haz, that cock should take up a whole fucking leg all on its own. Where did you even hide that thing?”

Harry snorted and shifted, tangling their legs together. “Is that even a compliment? M’starting to get a bit confused.”

“Did your brain come out of your dick when you came or something?” Louis asked with a snort of a laugh. “Because m’pretty sure the answer to that’s kind of obvious.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, voice low and warm. “S’pose you _were_ moaning about wanting my cock inside you a few minutes ago. Must be a compliment. M’gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight.” The dirty talk was probably a little bit ruined by the enormous yawn that interrupted the middle of it if Harry was going to be honest with himself. 

“Very sexy,” Louis said with a sleepy laugh. He patted Harry’s cheek lazily with one hand. “You’d better get a good night’s sleep, _stud_ \- “ Louis barely managed not to crack up. “Because I’m going to work you so fucking hard tomorrow.”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry mumbled, burying his face in Louis' hair and tightening his arms around him, humming happily. “You’re perfect.”

He barely heard (or felt) the little snuffle of a laugh from Louis before he was asleep, warm and sated and happier than he’d been in months. Maybe even in years.

***

As it turned out, Harry learning to surf was just as bad of an idea in practice as it was in theory. He tried - he’d really, really tried - to take it back, to tell Louis that he hadn’t really meant it and he’d just been looking for an excuse to spend time with Louis without asking him out because he hadn’t known if that would have been too creepy or not and - 

And Louis, apparently, just didn’t take no for an answer. Especially when he had an idea in his head. Which was why, later the next day, Harry was in his swimming shorts, straddling Louis' surfboard and trying not to fall in. Though to be fair, it was probably also because Louis was very, _very_ persuasive, especially first thing in the morning - and naked - and Harry just...hadn’t even known where to start with saying no to him. So he’d ended up saying a very reluctant yes.

Harry was pretty sure, somewhere over in the direction of the beach, Niall was still laughing hysterically. And probably laughing harder every time he saw Harry fall. Which was really, really stupidly often.

“Honestly,” Louis said, hopping up onto the board behind him and shaking his head, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. Through the exasperation colouring his voice, Harry liked to think he could hear a little bit of fondness. It was Louis' fault he was even here in the first place anyway so there’d better be a bit of fondness there. “You seriously have the balance of one of those newborn giraffes. It’s like you have no idea where your legs have even come from.”

Harry would have curled up, would have turned away, would have done something if he wasn’t so concerned about falling off the board for the three millionth time in the space of less than an hour. Instead, he settled for huffing out a breath, loud and pointed. “I did tell you,” he said, having a bit of a sulk. “I’m a fucking disaster on land and you want me to balance on a board.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to surf,” Louis pointed out.

“I only said that to have an excuse to spend time with you!” Harry protested loudly, letting out another frustrated breath and immediately going still when the board rocked with his very slight movement. He made another noise, low and unhappy. “And I don’t need an excuse anymore because like - I don’t. Can we just quit? Can we just...go back? I know I’m a fucking loser at this, okay?” And since it was a huge fucking passion of Louis', it probably really did make him a loser in Louis' mind, and the more Harry embarrassed himself and proved himself incompetent, the more unattractive he was going to get to Louis. Better quit before he ran out of points to lose. 

“Hey,” Louis said, voice gentler, and Harry felt the board shift - gripped even more tightly as he did so - and then Louis' arms were wrapping around him securely, tugging him slightly backwards. “You just need to relax, that’s all.”

“I’ll fall in,” Harry said miserably, gripping harder and refusing to lean into Louis despite the fact that Louis clearly wanted him to. 

“You won’t,” Louis promised. “C’mon, Haz, trust me. Shift your weight a little. Here.” And...and apparently, no matter what the situation and no matter how terrible an idea Harry thought it was, he was still unable to say no to Louis. He followed Louis' instructions, followed Louis' light touch to move to the middle of the board - stayed still and let Louis fit himself against Harry’s back, wrap his arms completely around him. 

“Take your hands off the board, Harry,” he instructed - and very slowly, Harry did. Even though he really, really thought this was a terrible plan. “That’s it,” Louis continued, using the fact that Harry had let go to scoot further forward, to wrap completely around Harry and put his chin on Harry’s neck. “That’s good. Relax. Just relax.” 

“Relax?” Harry said, voice tight. “Really? You want me to _relax_?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, laughing a little - and this time, it was definitely more amusement laced with exasperation than the other way around. “Relax. Just lean back into me, Haz.”

“I don’t think I can relax,” Harry said a little dubiously - and then let out a truly, horribly embarrassing sound when Louis' hand slid down to press against his crotch without any further warning. “Oh my god, you can’t just do that,” Harry said, voice climbing higher, more strained, fighting to urge to just sink into that as Louis palmed at his shorts, clearly determined.

“Relax,” Louis said again, shifting to curl his fingers around Harry’s cock, turning his head to press his lips against Harry’s neck. “C’mon, Harry, relax. Stop fighting me.”

Which was just… it wasn’t that easy. Harry wanted it to be that easy but he was very, very aware of the fact that they were sitting on a surfboard and, knowing him, Harry was going to topple over any minute now and take Louis with him, and it just wouldn’t be sexy at all. He shifted his hand to grip Louis' arm, to dig into skin, to try to get him to stop - and Louis let out a rush of a breath - and then mouthed at Harry’s neck for a moment, all the warning Harry got before Louis sank his teeth in.

Harry _moaned_ , low and needy, body going slack as the pain-edged pleasure raced through him, fingers spasming against Louis' skin. His head lolled to the side, offering more skin, giving Louis more room to move, easier access, as Harry stopped fighting him, as Louis drew another shuddering moan from Harry with a twist of his hand and a light suction against his neck. 

“I was hoping that would work,” Louis said, sounding a little bit smug - but Harry’s brain had melted and he really couldn’t bring himself to care. Let Louis be smug. He deserved it. He hummed softly, shifting to press back against Louis a little more as Louis tightened his hold on his waist and uncurled his fingers from around Harry’s cock. 

Harry whined at the loss but, before he could get too worked up about it, Louis slid his hand into his shorts and curled it more firmly - and more surely - around Harry’s cock. The disappointed sound turned into another low hum of pleasure at the better - hotter, smoother, tighter, more brilliant - skin-on-skin contact.

“You’re terrible,” Harry said breathlessly, pitch climbing a little when Louis took that as an invitation to move his hand, to twist it around Harry’s cock, slow and sure on the upstroke, and Harry’s eyes almost rolled back in his head as he leaned a little more heavily against Louis. “Pure evil.”

Louis laughed, soft and intimate, against Harry’s ear as he repeated the action, drawing a breathless laugh from Harry as Harry pressed back into it. “Absolutely, yeah. I’m a terrible person.” 

“Terrible,” Harry agreed, hips lifting to meet Louis' next stroke. “So, fucking - fuck, that’s. Yeah, Louis.”

“This?” Louis asked, sliding his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock as he stroked up. Harry nodded, words stuck in his throat, moan choked and needy. “Just like this?”

“Yes,” Harry finally managed, hitched and stuttered. “Yes, yes - please, Louis, please stop teasing.” Which was apparently enough to get Louis to have a little pity (and a little was maybe, possibly even better than a lot) - enough for him to start up a rhythm that Harry could roll his hips up to meet, that Harry could settle into, could shift into - just a little - and let the pleasure build.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Louis said, words making it past Harry’s haze of pleasure - his entire focus completely and utterly narrowed to LouisLouisLouis. Just Louis. Wrapped around him. Louis' hand on his cock - steady, wonderful, amazing rhythm with his steady, wonderful, amazing hand - and Louis' soft voice in his ear. “So fucking gorgeous, Harry, I can’t even tell you. Can’t believe you’re - “ He cut himself off, and Harry would have asked him what he couldn’t believe, would have asked him to finish that sentence because there was something there that made Harry curious, something that Harry wanted to know - something that -

But his mind couldn’t hold the thought for long, couldn’t hold much of any thought for long really, not with Louis' hand twisting so he could slide his thumb along the bottom of his cock, could twist enough to let his finger slide a little behind Harry’s balls, having Harry trying to widen his legs a little more, shift to try to accommodate that touch, arch up to -

“Easy,” Louis murmured, stilling - which only served to make Harry want to try _harder_ to regain the angle he’d lost, twist to try and get Louis to _move_ , to do that again, to slide back _further_ and - “Harry - wait, you’re going to - “

Overbalance and send them both sprawling into the water, Louis' hand still down Harry’s swimming shorts, other arm wrapped around him. 

Harry spluttered, dazed and confused - felt himself being pulled up to the surface, sucking in a lungful of air as soon as he broke the water. He glanced at the beach, at the surfboard and then at Louis, who was pushing his hair away from his face with the hand previously on Harry’s dick while still holding onto Harry with his other hand - and then had to glance away, embarrassment rising. Before he could apologise, before he could get too upset, before he could...he didn’t even know what he was about to do, just knew he was so fucking embarrassed - Louis started to laugh, and the arm around him tightened as Louis reeled Harry back in against him. 

“Maybe that worked a little too well,” Louis said with another grin, shifting in close again, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist before Harry could even try to get away. His smile softened as he leaned in to kiss Harry, lips wet and slightly salty, but firm and insistent. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“What?” Harry asked, more bewildered now - too confused to let the embarrassment get to him. And, honestly, he had Louis' legs wrapped around him, had Louis pressed in close and smiling brighter than the damn sun; he couldn’t really stay upset at anything at all.

“The fact that you managed to actually forget where you were,” Louis explained and eased a hand between them to rest on Harry’s stomach, fingers easing downwards again. “Now hold onto the board and keep us afloat, yeah?”

Harry glanced around for the board, barely managing to reach out and snag it before the next wave carried it too far away from them. He shifted his grip on it and glanced a bit uncertainly at Louis. “How m’I supposed to do that and keep a hold of you?”

“Well, mostly, just don’t let the board get away from - wha - “ 

Harry spun them around, putting the board behind Louis instead, making it easier to keep a grip on them - and also having the advantage and putting Louis closer to him. Louis looked a bit impressed at that, and it was Harry’s turn to look smug. “Like this?”

Louis slid his hand those last few inches downwards and wrapped it around Harry’s cock again. “Good boy,” he said, grinning at Harry’s moan, starting to stroke again, finding something close to the same rhythm he’d had going before - and somehow managing to put Harry back exactly to the same headspace he’d been in, coax his body into responding, desire and want and need curling hot and fast in his stomach.

And fuck, it was hard to remember to keep a hold of the board let alone that he had to keep moving enough that they wouldn’t both just drop under the water again. 

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, grip tightening on the board as he felt pleasure building up again. “Ohfuck, Louis - Louis - fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon, Harry,” Louis said, leaning back enough that he could really pump Harry’s cock, leaned back in to press a kiss to Harry’s mouth, hot and hungry. “C’mon. C’mon, Haz, wanna see you come, wanna watch you fall apart for me.”

And Harry did, helpless to do anything but whatever Louis wanted when Louis asked him like that, breath hitching as he moaned low, lost his grip on the board and clung to Louis instead, pressing his face in against Louis' neck as he came hard. Keeping it there as his body remembered how to breathe - easier to breathe in Louis than air, really - and as his limbs relearned how to function.

Louis was laughing again, soft and affectionate and one of the most wonderful things he’d ever heard in his life - and it took Harry a few moments to figure out how Louis could still be wrapped around him when he wasn’t doing anything to keep them above the water. Definitely a compliment to Louis then that Harry had somehow not even realised they’d drifted closer to the beach, close enough for Harry to be standing in the sand. 

He started laughing as well, lifting his head to press a kiss to Louis' mouth. “That was...an interesting lesson.”

“You were quite hopeless,” Louis said with exasperated fondness. “But at least you know how to follow orders.” He gave Harry another quick, teasing kiss. “Let’s set your next lesson for the same time tomorrow then,” he added, and just laughed harder at Harry’s exaggerated groan. 

***

They settled into a routine that Harry really, really liked – one that he could definitely get used to, that he really, really wanted to get used to.

Over the next five mornings, Harry woke up with Louis wrapped around him, tucked in against his side, face pressed into Harry’s neck. He stayed where he was, dozing lightly until Louis woke up. They had breakfast after lazy morning sex followed by a shower – together – before Louis went to work, lingering in Harry’s doorway for as long as he could. They met up for Harry’s surfing lesson mid-afternoon, which usually went terribly and ended up with them just settled on Louis' surfboard, paddling around in the water absently as they talked, and, on two occasions, _that_ ended up with rubbing off on each other slow and sweet in the water.

They had a couple of drinks at the bar, sometimes with Louis sitting on the stool beside him, sometimes with Louis pouring the drinks while Niall took a quick break – every time with the two of them talking, flirting playfully – until Niall had enough of them and sent them away.

“You’re teeth-rottingly disgusting,” Niall said, pushing Louis out from behind the bar and actually shooing them out of his bar. “You’re putting me off my work, and all these nice people off their drinks.”

“Don’t be bitter just ‘cause you’re jealous, Nialler,” Louis called back, laughing, as Harry took his hand and they headed back to Harry’s bungalow.

They had dinner and then very, very good, incredibly satisfying, mind-blowingly wonderful sex.

Apart from learning exactly how Louis liked to be touched, how his cock felt in his mouth, exactly what sounds he made when Harry swallowed around his dick or when he was fucking Harry, slow and hard and deep, Harry learned a bit more about _him_.

Harry learned that Louis had four sisters back in Doncaster, and another pair of twins – Louis wasn’t quite sure of the gender yet – on the way, though none of them had the same father as him. His mum was twice divorced and – and they weren’t on the best of terms. Louis found out most of his news through the oldest of his sisters who emailed every once in a while.

“Has she ever visited you here?” Harry asked, words pressed to the skin just behind Louis' ear. They were sitting on the beach, Louis between his legs, leaning against his chest.

Louis hesitated before he shook his head. “She’s…she’s not allowed to,” he said after a moment. “I mean, they’ve been here – all my sisters have. We originally came here for a family holiday.” He went quiet, seemingly trying to decide what to say next, and Harry sat quietly, waiting, not wanting to push him. No real need, really – Louis would tell him if he wanted him to know, and if he wasn’t ready to talk about it, then Harry wouldn’t push. Especially when Louis hadn’t pushed him to talk about anything about his own life. “And that’s when I decided not to go back.”

“Your mum was angry at you for wanting to stay?” Harry asked, surprised.

Louis shook his head. “No, she was angry. That’s why I decided to stay.” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, lips parting, wanting to ask but…but not even knowing where to start. Thankfully, Louis seemed to understand well enough that he didn’t make Harry have to find the right words. “I wasn’t… When we arrived, I wasn’t – I hadn’t really come out to my parents.” He gave Harry a rueful smile, threading his fingers through Harry’s where it rested on Louis' stomach. “But I ended up… I ended up possibly in love with – and definitely sleeping with – my surfing instructor.”

Harry’s arms tightened around him, kissing the side of his neck, soft and reassuring. “And your mum…?”

“She wasn’t – she was disappointed. That I hadn’t told her. And I guess she was embarrassed and… I don’t know. She was angry. She and Mark – my step dad – fought over it, I think. I don’t really know. I never…we never talked about it, really. She was always… Anyway, we fought. And the few times I’ve been home and seen her since, we still – we can’t agree. So.” Louis shrugged. “There’s not much point going home, is there?”

Harry didn’t really know what to say to that, could only tighten his arms a little more, curling around Louis and sliding his hands over to rub at Louis' arms lightly. “I’m…”

Louis huffed out and breath and turned for a kiss, nipping lightly at Harry’s lower lip. “Anyway,” he said, before Harry could get anything else out. “Everyone’s here for a reason, right? And besides, Tavarua’s gorgeous – my favourite place in the world. I don’t regret moving here one bit. Wouldn’t go back to England for the world.” Louis' grin widened and he pressed a little more insistently into the kiss, licking into Harry’s mouth.

Harry didn’t protest but…but there was something about that statement that made something twist hard in his stomach, made him feel like a fist had clamped itself around his heart – and fuck, he wasn’t going to dwell on it, not with Louis twisting in his arms to press more fully against him, not when Louis was murmuring, “inside?” questioningly against his mouth. He wasn’t going to dwell on it when he had Louis right here in his arms, couldn’t scrutinise those feelings when he had Louis' fingers pressing into him, clever and wonderful and all-too-knowing, stealing his breath and his mind and all coherent thought.

***

“No lesson today, huh?” Niall asked as Harry walked into the bar alone and noticeably not wet.

Harry shook his head. “Louis said he was going out surfing?” Not in the shallow waters, either. Not teaching a little girl to surf or anything like that. He’d said he’d be late too, so Harry had figured he was headed out to one of the more advanced waves. And Louis had said surfing, not teaching, so it was definitely not Kiddieland.

“Oh, right, yeah,” Niall said, nodding knowingly. “I almost forgot. It’s that time of year again.”

“That time of year?” Harry asked, curious, getting comfortable in his seat. He planned to get a bit more writing done since Louis wasn’t here to distract him. And he really should also take the chance to answer some emails. Before Louis came back and he got distracted all over again.

“Yeah,” Niall answered, nodding. “Some pro-surfers turn up here to enjoy the waves every once in a while. One of them – Liam Payne, I don’t know if you’ve heard of him – comes here around this time every year. Louis' probably out with him at Cloudbreak or Desperation or something. He tries to go out there as much as he can, you know, but it’s not as much fun on your own, and the rest of the time, he’s teaching so…”

“Right,” Harry said, trying not to think about that. Cloudbreak or Desperation was… Pro-surfer territory. And if Louis was teaching all the time, he probably spent way too much time at Kiddieland, teaching children and other inept students (like Harry) how to paddle around. And definitely not riding pro-surfer level waves like he should be. Louis probably looked forward to surfing with someone who could keep up with him.

Other pro-surfers.

Like Liam Payne.

So, of course, Harry immediately typed the name into google and came up with…a really fucking fit bloke looking really good in a wetsuit. _Of course_ he did. And of course, he had a nice long list of achievements and awards. And a couple of very, very impressive videos.

There were even a few of him at Cloudbreak with – Harry was pretty certain – Louis. And of course, they were riding the beautifully pro-level, incredible waves like the professionals they were. They both looked incredible.

_Of course_.

“Anyway, Liam’s a nice bloke,” Niall continued, topping up Harry’s iced-tea. “Louis usually spends a lot of time with him during the week he’s here, out on the waves and just catching up and stuff. S’what makes me think Tommo actually misses home, you know? Even when he doesn’t really talk about it.”

“Liam’s English?”

Niall raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just google him?”

Harry looked up at him guiltily – look turning sheepish when he realised Niall was grinning at him with that horribly knowing grin of his. “Yes,” he admitted, shifting a bit on his seat. “You can’t exactly blame me, yeah?”

“Yeah, man, can’t say I do. Especially since you have the coordination of a baby gazelle on that surfboard. And don’t argue, mate, I’ve been watching Louis trying to teach you. Right up until you have sex anyway because that’s really not my thing.”

Harry snorted, feeling his cheeks heat up and…and burying his face in his arms with a low groan. “Fuck.”

“Exactly.” Niall snorted and then reached over the bar to ruffle his hair. “C’mon, Harry, it’s not that bad. I don’t think anyone else has really noticed – I mean, think the whole bloody island knows you and Louis are fucking, but I don’t think anyone else has figured out the surfing lessons thing.”

Harry snapped his head back up again, scandalised. “It was just – it’s not every time!” He protested, and Niall just laughed.

“Told you those lessons were a great idea,” he said smugly, and Harry, being the adult that he was, stuck his tongue out at him. “Oh, don’t do that,” Niall started, grin widening. “Don’t think Lou’d like you sticking that out at any random person.”

“Do you turn everything dirty?” Harry asked, face absolutely flaming.

“Yep,” Niall said proudly and ruffled Harry’s hair again. Harry made a face before he looked back at the screen of his phone – at the very attractive man in a wetsuit, and sighed.

“Hey,” Niall said, waving his hand in front of the screen to catch Harry’s attention again. “Stop worrying about Liam, yeah? He’s straight as an arrow, I’m pretty sure.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Have you _seen_ Louis in a wetsuit?” he asked incredulously. “He’d make a straight man question his sexuality.”

Niall laughed. “I’m going to tell him you said that – actually, no, I’m not. You aren’t either. He’s got a big enough ego as it is, he doesn’t need it inflated anymore.” He shook his head. “But more seriously, they’ve been friends for years, and I’ve never even suspected they might have been sleeping together during Liam’s holidays, yeah? I think it’s pretty clear that Lou’s not exactly one to keep any relationship with anyone on this island a secret or anything. So stop freaking out.”

Harry tried – he really did. He tried not to think about it. Went from trying not to think about it (which didn’t quite work out) to trying to reason it out. That if Louis wanted to…if Louis was sleeping with Liam then he had every right to. Because they weren’t… They weren’t going out or boyfriends or anything, and that meant Louis could do whatever he wanted – especially if that whatever was a _whoever_ who came to visit every year.

So. Yeah.

It didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it made him feel even worse, and he was fully aware that the teasing, knowing smirks Niall had been throwing his way had turned into looks that were more concerned than anything else (except maybe exasperated because they were pretty exasperated too). And that Niall had gone from trying to engage him in conversation to leaving him to his own brooding.

Harry was so lost in thought – lost in his ridiculously stupid made-up scenarios, each more dramatic (if he did say so himself) than the last – that he didn’t even hear Louis calling his name. He actually jumped when Louis wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned into him, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder with a soft, happy, “Hi.”

Harry relaxed as Louis rested a little more of his weight against him, and turned to catch Louis' lips in a light, brief kiss. “Hi. Waves good?”

“Brilliant,” Louis said enthusiastically, shifting around to settle himself comfortably between Harry’s legs, leaning in for a slower kiss. When it broke, Louis nudged him lightly with his nose before turning to Harry’s left and gesturing. “This is Liam Payne. Liam, this is – “

“Harry Styles,” Liam said, eyes widening a little, smile warm and easy and friendly. “It’s really – it is, isn’t it?”

Like it could be anyone else. “Yeah,” Harry said slowly, biting his lower lip before offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, mate,” Liam said, shaking Harry’s hand very enthusiastically. “Wow, god, I’m a huge fan.”

Harry blinked at him, a bit startled. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Liam said, nodding. “Hell yeah. I love your music, man. Looking forward to you making more, you know? But I get why you need the break. I mean, being outed like that must have been…” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine it. But you’re an inspiration, yeah? Meant one of my little cousins had the guts to come out to his family too.”

That made Harry blush, surprised and – god, he didn’t even know what to say to that. “I – thank you.”

“I just wish it could have been under better circumstances,” Liam added carefully. “That it could have been on your own terms.”

“Me too,” Harry said, throat tight, breath catching – and then Louis' arms were more firmly around him, Louis' face tucked into his neck, kissing his skin softly, and that…maybe it shouldn’t have helped, considering he was here on Tavarua because of the breakdown that’d come from the amount of exposure and invasion of privacy that had followed that outing, but it helped. It helped a lot.

“Anyway,” Liam said, offering him another easy, genuine smile. “I’m just – I really respect how you handled it, you know? Like, it was the paps and the media and stuff that were out of order afterwards. You were great.”

“Thanks,” Harry said again, and his smile was more genuine this time, easily reaching out to clasp Liam’s hand again, his own handshake more enthusiastic than it had been before. “Really, thank you. It really is a pleasure to meet you.”

Liam’s smile grew as he dropped onto the stool beside Harry. “Yeah,” he said, laughing a bit as he reached for the drink Niall slid over. “And I’m looking forward to getting to know you a bit better, considering Tommo here really can’t stop talking about you.”

Harry laughed at the indignant sound Louis made as Louis pulled back and glared at Liam, laughed even harder as Liam put up his hands in a placating gesture with a mutter of, “Hey, I’m just telling it how it is, Tommo. Don’t give me that look.”

“You’re a dead man, “ Louis said, shaking his fist at Liam threateningly – but the way the blush was creeping over his neck gave him away, and the softness in his eyes as he turned his glare on Harry – because Harry was still laughing – definitely wasn’t Harry’s imagination. It made Harry feel warm all the way down to his toes. “Don’t you get any ideas,” Louis said to him, tapping him on the nose. “He’s lying.”

“Of course he is,” Harry said, trying to school his features, before he turned to meet Liam’s eyes with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh no, don’t fucking start,” Louis said, sounding exasperated. “Don’t you two dare gang up on me. Niall. _Niall_! Give a bloke a hand, yeah?”

“Think you should be asking Harry that,” Niall said as he strolled over. “Because that’s really not within the normal bounds of our relationship, mate.”

Louis' gave an indignant little squawk as Liam high-fived Niall, and Harry relaxed the rest of the way, laughing with them as he tightened his arms around Louis, and Louis leaned more heavily against him.

***

Harry walked into the bar several days later to find more people than usual in the bar, whispering to each other and trying to appear like they were just all casually standing there for reasons of their own and not all there staring at something. Or, as it turned out, someone.

“...got to be a model,” Harry caught as he walked past. “Did you see those cheekbones?”

“...looks very familiar though. Maybe on the cover of…”

“...definitely seen him somewhere before.”

“...those eyes, god. I wonder if he has a…”

Harry didn’t even need the person standing at the bar talking to Niall to turn around to know exactly who it was. His steps quickened as he approached, launching himself at Zayn and wrapping his arms around his neck, clinging to his back.

“Zayn!” Harry said happily, squeezing. “Sneaky bastard. You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Zayn turned - well, sort of turned - as much as he could with Harry attached to his back, trying to see him. Harry, obligingly, twisted a little so he could sort of see Zayn’s face and Zayn could probably see some of his face if he went a bit cross-eyed.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Harry,” he said with a patient smile, reaching around to curl an arm around his waist and tug Harry forward so he could actually see him properly. At least, that was what Harry assumed Zayn was doing so he swung around, leaning back against the bar as Zayn leaned back and looked him over. “I emailed you a few days ago. Didn’t get a response so I came over anyway.”

“Oops,” Harry said, probably not sounding apologetic enough if Zayn’s amused little grin was anything to go by. “Sorry, I’ve been busy. Why’re you here?”

Zayn snorted. “Yeah, straight to the point, that’s our Harry. Actually, Paul was getting a little scared that you’d grown a beard and started playing the ukulele,” he continued with a shrug. “Or drank yourself into a coma or...I don’t know...fallen into a pit of depression or something since your replies to emails are few and far between. And usually short. So…” Zayn gestured to himself. “He sent the cavalry.”

Harry laughed and wrapped his arm around Zayn’s neck as Zayn shifted over to make space for him on the stool. There wasn’t a lot of space but he and Louis usually managed, and he and Zayn had both had to make do with a lot worse before. It was comfortable enough - more than, if he was honest. Harry had definitely loved being on Tavarua, away from everything, but he’d definitely missed his friends and family. When he wasn’t too busy being distracted anyway.

“And you, of course, kicked and screamed and demanded to know why you were being sent here - to this godawful place,” Harry said, gesturing with his other hand to the island paradise around him. 

“Naturally,” Zayn said reasonably, laughing and tickling Harry playfully in the side. “It’s a horrible fate, being sent away to a gorgeous tropical paradise to keep your skinny arse in line. It’s a hardship but someone has to do it.”

“I’m a bit surprised Paul didn’t just come himself, to be honest,” Harry admitted, settling again and reaching for the iced tea Niall had thoughtfully already put on the bar. 

“I think he’s still enjoying the last of his holiday from babysitting you,” Zayn said with a snort of a laugh, reaching for his...very interesting looking cocktail. Harry stared at it, fascinated. There was actually several tiers of different coloured liquids, topped off with a piece of pineapple and a cute little umbrella and everything.

“That’s...whoa,” he said, still staring as Zayn took a zip. It wasn’t until Zayn put it down that what he’d said finally registered. “Wait, the last of his holiday?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said slowly. “Uh...you really haven’t been reading your emails or checking your voicemails at all, have you?”

Harry shook his head, feeling something heavy settling in his stomach as he considered what that implied. As he considered the sympathy he could see in Zayn’s eyes. “I’ve been busy,” he repeated a little weakly. “Tell me.”

“People have been asking about you a lot,” Zayn said, his tone careful - and god, Harry hated hearing anything in that tone. Hated hearing that people were still being too careful, waiting - expecting - him to break. “And they miss you. So we thought it was about time for you to make some appearances. I mean, if you’d been in bad shape when I’d got here, we would have cancelled it but...well, you’re doing so much better. You look so much better.” Zayn squeezed Harry’s side lightly, soft and reassuring, obviously having felt where Harry had tensed up, what with them pressed against each other like they were, and it’s almost enough to make Harry feel a little better at the prospect of going back to England.

Almost.

But not really. 

“What has he - what have you guys lined up?”

“Nothing too strenuous,” Zayn said immediately. “Just...The Radio One Breakfast Show during the first week - one of those ones where they put the actual footage on Youtube, so no, you can’t just phone in from here, H, sorry. But that one’s just...music, talking about your holiday here - you know, chatter with Nick.”

“He’ll have to ask,” Harry said, feeling as though he was talking on autopilot, not entirely sure any of this was real. It didn’t feel real. He hadn’t - talking shop was something he hadn’t done in so long and...and not here, not at his usual place at the bar, drinking iced tea and looking out at the ocean like this. 

“Yeah,” Zayn agreed, and Harry thought he almost sounded far away. Like maybe he was still in England and...and Harry didn’t know where he was even going with that thought, couldn’t make ends meet. The way talking about interviews and photoshoots and work didn’t fit with his life - his routine - here on Tavarua. “But it’s Nick. He’ll do it right.” Zayn hesitated before he continued, “We thought you could do the whole interview about coming out thing more seriously a couple of weeks later. Give you some time to adjust - keep it interesting with the light stuff, you know, let you get back to it before the bigger interviews.”

Harry nodded, definitely starting to find it a little hard to breathe. Just thinking about it was… it was so much to take in. Too much. Too much, too fast - without enough warning. 

“We’ve got studio time booked for you later as well,” Zayn was saying. “Thought maybe, if you’ve done any writing here, or if you like any of these new songs we’ve been writing for you, we could get a single out for Christmas. Have you been writing?”

“I’ve - not that much music,” Harry answered automatically, swallowing hard, clearing his throat before he clarified, “I’ve written - there’s a book. A story. That we could probably make into music and - Zayn,” he said, and even to his own ears, it sounded a little desperate. “Zayn, I’m not - I don’t think I can go back yet.”

Both of Zayn’s arms came up around him, hugging him tight. “It’s okay, yeah, Harry?” he said gently, rubbing Harry’s back soothingly. “It’s died down a bit at home. I promise, it’s okay.”

Harry tucked his face into Zayn’s neck and took a slow breath - one that hitched only a little, before mumbling, “It’s not just that,” against Zayn’s skin.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s - “

“Harry, are you okay?” Louis' voice came from behind him, and Harry pulled back from Zayn slowly, taking another steadying breath before he turned around, tried to smile as his eyes found Louis rushing towards them. 

Zayn, however, didn’t let go. If anything, his arms tightened a little bit around Harry as Louis approached. Harry gave him a look before he eased out of Zayn’s grip, letting Louis wrap his arms around him and pull him closer instead. 

“Hey,” he said as Louis' arms settled comfortably around him, Louis fitting against his side. 

“Are you okay?” Louis asked again, insistent, eyes searching Harry’s face.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m - I’m fine.” Not good, but he was fine. He was coping. Louis gave him a suspicious little look - looked like he was about to push - so Harry directed his attention elsewhere instead. “This is Zayn,” he said, gesturing. “Zayn, this is Louis.”

“Hello,” Louis said carefully, as Zayn answered with his own quiet, “Hi,” and...and _fuck_ , they were both giving each other assessing looks. And Harry was fully aware that he should probably feel privileged and honoured and flattered that they both cared about him enough to do that, but all he could feel was exasperated. 

_Honestly_.

“Okay, okay, stop it,” Harry said, having absolutely no time for this. Especially not if he only had a week left on Tavarua. And _especially_ not because he was pretty damn certain that Louis and Zayn could - and would, given the chance - get along like a fucking house on fire. “Stop it.”

They both turned almost identical innocent looks on him. “Stop what?” they said. At exactly the same time, and then turned to almost-sort-of-but-not-quite glare at each other.

“Stop this,” Harry said, letting them hear the exasperation he was feeling. “This. This glaring, assessing thing. Lou, Zayn’s my best friend from home. My _friend_. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Zayn protested, and Harry turned to him with a roll of his eyes.

“Zayn, Louis is - “ Which was where Harry stopped, words sticking in his throat, before he finally said, “a very good friend I’ve made here - “

“We’re fucking,” Louis said shortly, voice clipped and a little too sharp. “We’ve been fucking almost every day since Harry got here.”

“Way too much information!” Zayn said, looking absolutely horrified. “Way, way, _way_ too much information. God, no, Harry’s like a fucking _brother_ to me and - yeah, yeah, I didn’t need to know that.” Harry had to bite back a smile when Zayn downed the rest of the strange cocktail thing he had in his hand and waved a little desperately at Niall. “I need to - bartender!”

“Niall,” Harry supplied helpfully. 

“Niall!” Zayn shouted, definitely way too loudly. “I need another one of these, please. Stronger, preferably. So strong I can bleach my brain with it. _Please_.”

Niall looked from Harry and Louis to Zayn before he started laughing, reaching for...a lot of different bottles of alcohol, mixing them together in a flurry of practiced movements. 

Harry was, however, a little distracted from it by Louis' arms tightening around him, shifting them so Louis was settled on the next stool over, Harry firmly in his arms and between his legs. Louis stayed plastered to his back - much, much closer than usual - even as Niall brought Zayn’s fresh drink, which was even more colourful than the last, and Louis' glass over.

There wasn’t a lot he could say right then - fuck, Harry didn’t even know where to start - but he knew there were things that he needed to say. When he could find the words to say them. But for now, he threaded his fingers through Louis' and squeezed as he let Niall lighten the conversation - get them all talking to each other - with the same expertise that he’d mixed their drinks. 

***

Louis was on him before the door had fully even shut behind him, hands pushing his shirt aside to map skin before realising he couldn’t get to _enough_ without taking the shirt off Harry completely. He gave a frustrated huff of a breath before tugging at it hard. 

“Off,” he demanded, and Harry was all too happy to scramble to comply, pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it off somewhere to the side. Wasn’t important. He could find it later. He moved his hand down to his fly before Louis’ hands swatted them out of the way. “ _Off_ ,” Louis said emphatically, tugging.

“I’m trying!” Harry answered with a soft laugh, giving up on trying to help when their hands kept knocking against each other and letting Louis work the buttons free, letting Louis peel his jeans off his legs.

“Why do you still even wear jeans?” Louis asked as he tugged a little too hard, and Harry had to reach out to grab the door handle to keep from falling over. “You should just...wear shorts. All the time.”

“I knew you liked those yellow shorts,” Harry said smugly, because Louis had spent the last few days trying to tell him he didn’t. Harry knew better. He was pretty sure Louis only said that so he had an excuse to take Harry’s shorts off him.

“I like them because they’re easier to get into than your bloody _jeans_. Christ, if I’d never seen you put them on and take them off, I would have thought you _painted_ them on. There! Step out.”

Louis tugged at him impatiently and, when Harry stepped out of the jeans, pushed him down onto the bed. He climbed into his lap a moment later, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair and kissing him hard - tugging Harry’s head back and kissing him harder.

“Lou…” Harry breathed as he kiss broke, but Louis wasn’t wasting any time. He dipped his head, lips trailing over Harry’s jaw, to kiss his neck before, he licked once at Harry’s pulse, sucked just a little and - and that was all the warning Harry had before Louis bit him. Hard.

Harry _moaned_ , fingers clutching helplessly at Louis’ hips, body arching up despite Louis’ weight pinning him down, mind completely short-circuiting, breathing getting harder and harder with every moment Louis’s lips stayed attached to his skin.

And god, Harry wasn’t even sure he was breathing by the time Louis pulled back to look down at the mark, expression completely and utterly satisfied. He leaned in and, in complete contrast to seconds earlier, kissed Harry softly, sweetly, let it linger before he pulled back.

“Lie down,” he said as he pushed away, back to his feet. “And get comfortable.” But it was pretty damn hard to do when all Harry wanted to do was watch Louis get undressed.

Fuck, Louis was so hot.

Even hotter when he laughed, when he ducked his head, blush staining his cheeks. “Harry,” he said, exasperated. “I know I’m fit but stop ogling and lie down, yeah?”

“Lie down,” Harry repeated, shuffling backwards but not taking his eyes off Louis even for a moment. “Right.” Kept watching as Louis crawled back onto the bed and towards him, leaning into a kiss as he eased Harry back fully onto the bed.

“Better,” Louis said. And shifted his hand to press down on the bruise - Harry was pretty damn sure it was going to be an impressive bruise - he’d left on his neck. Harry’s entire world narrowed to just that touch. And Louis’ voice. “Much better.”

“Good,” Harry breathed, arching up a little so he could feel Louis’ weight bearing down a bit more on him. “That’s...that’s good.”

“You’re good,” Louis said affectionately, leaning in to kiss Harry slowly. Letting it deepen just as slowly. He licked into Harry’s mouth, tongue teasing, just a curl of it around Harry’s before Louis retreated to nip at Harry’s lip - kept teasing until Harry was lightheaded from it. Until Harry was lightheaded from want.

“Please,” Harry breathed, fingers squeezing Louis’ hip a little harder - and distantly, he realised that it was going to probably bruise. Fingertips on Louis’ beautiful skin. His grip tightened just a little more, pulling Louis down against him a bit more firmly - rolled his hips up into it and got a shaky gasp for his efforts. “Louis, please.”

“Please what?” Louis asked, kissing him again as - as - oh _fuck_ \- he rolled his hips down to meet Harry’s. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Harry breathed. “Want you to fuck me so much, Lou, please. _Please_.”

And just like that, Louis’s slick - when had he even reached for the lube? - finger pressed lightly against his hole, rubbed at the rim for a moment as Harry _wihined_. “Don’t tease,” he said, dangerously close to begging. “Please - please don’t tease. Please, please - _oh_.”

Louis pressed in a little deeper, curling his finger and finding Harry’s prostate with almost frightening precision, and - and were those noises coming from him? Because Harry didn’t think - he couldn’t be making those noises, couldn’t be keening like that - but it was, it had to be - it _was_ because Louis was doing as he’d asked and _not teasing_ , taking no prisoners as he worked his finger over Harry’s prostate - over and over and over, sending pleasure spreading through Harry, making him burn with it. Had him writhing under him, almost didn’t notice anything but the absence of that sensation as Louis pulled his finger back so he could add another, press in two - back to curl again inside him - and then to fuck him slowly, in-and-out- working him open, and Harry was making noise, saying something, but it wasn’t coherent, couldn’t be, because he could barely string two thoughts together.

Just _Louis_ and _please_.

“Oh god, Louis _please_.” Said out loud, maybe - probably - because that was Louis pulling his fingers out, and that was Louis’ cock slowly pushing into him, Louis murmuring to him, soft and soothing and hot and deep and wonderful and god, Harry could barely think through the sensation. Realised he didn’t have to. Just had to let go and feel it.

Because Louis had him. Louis was wonderful and amazing, and fucking him, deep and hard and _everything_ , and Harry couldn’t do anything - didn’t need to do anything - but meet every thrust, than ride it out, than let go when Louis’ hand wrapped around his cock, when Louis whispered in his ear, low and commanding and - “Come on, Harry, come for me.”

And Harry came. Felt and heard and _knew_ Louis followed him over that edge. 

He managed to get enough control of his limbs to wrap his arms around Louis when Louis’ collapsed against him, tucked him in tight and kept him close as Harry drifted, hazy and happy and absolutely perfect.

Later, Louis still stayed curled up against him, wrapped tight around him, every touch almost possessive. Almost desperately possessive, though that wasn’t something Harry was sure he could quantify, let alone say. Maybe it was his own wishful thinking, his own desperation bleeding into how he was reading Louis' actions.

Still, Louis stayed close, clung as tightly to him as Harry was clinging back.

“So...you and Zayn,” Louis started slowly but in a tone that Harry had learned meant there was no way Harry could derail the thoughts Louis was having. Especially not when they were both fucked out and satisfied.

Harry made a face. “Do we really have to talk about this while naked? It’s a bit weird.” That didn’t mean Harry wasn’t going to _try_ to get out of having this conversation though.

Louis snorted. “I want to know,” he said, pinching Harry’s side and tightening his arms when Harry made to move away. “I’m curious.”

Harry let out a soft sigh, rolling his eyes and settling again. “Go on then. What about Zayn?”

“Have you guys really never fucked?” Louis asked bluntly. 

Harry choked on air, coughing as he tried to get his breath back and then just laughing, shaking his head. “We’ve really never fucked,” he assured him as soon as he could breathe again, ignoring the dirty look Louis was throwing him. “Really.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Harry repeated, trying to school his features because he didn’t think laughing all over again would go over too well with Louis.

“ _Why?_ ”

Harry blinked. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

Louis shifted back to meet Harry’s eyes, gesturing as much as he could while still staying mostly wrapped around Harry. “I mean why? Why not? Why haven’t you fucked? Why did you never do the - “

“Okay, okay, stop!” Harry interrupted, laughing again, shaking his head a little. “We just...we haven’t. We’ve been friends for...ages. Way back before I was out, you know? Even to my friends. And just...he’s always been the constant emotional support?”

“But he’s _fit_ ,” Louis insisted. 

“I never really - I mean, objectively, _obviously_ , yeah, but - no. He’s my brother!”

“He’s really, _really_ fit,” Louis said again, and...okay, that had Harry narrowing his eyes a little, jabbing at Louis' side with his finger.

“Are you trying to tell me you want to fuck him?”

Louis blinked, opened his mouth to say something before he closed it again, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he said, “I wouldn’t say no to a threeso - “

Harry clamped his hand over Louis' mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence!” he said shaking his head. 

Louis licked his hand like the child he was, and Harry let go, making a face as Louis laughed at him. Harry pouted, which was...probably not a mature thing to do considering he’d just called Louis a child in his head, but whatever. Louis didn’t mind.

Or Louis did mind, because he caved within thirty seconds. “Aw, c’mon, Harry, I was just kidding.” He shifted closer again, leaned in to kiss Harry lightly. “Wouldn’t want to share you with him anyway. I mean, he’s already going to - “ Louis abruptly cut himself off, expression dark, before he just shook his head and leaned in for another kiss before resettling.

Harry...wasn’t certain - of course not, he wasn’t a mind reader - but he was pretty sure he could guess how that sentence was going to end. And it wasn’t something he wanted to address quite yet either.

After a moment, Louis started again, voice quieter this time. Unnaturally quiet, really, for Louis, who had never really been quiet for as long as Harry had known him. Not really. “Does that… Zayn coming here. Does that mean you’re going home soon?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, throat tight. Trying not to give too much away. But he couldn’t stop himself curling closer to Louis. Tighter. Like maybe that would mean he didn’t have to let go.

“Oh.” There was another moment of silence that stretched between them before Louis asked, “When?”

“A week,” Harry said.

“A week,” Louis repeated even more quietly, and maybe Harry imagined it, but he swore he could hear Louis take a shaky breath. “One week.”

“You could come and visit me,” Harry suggested carefully. “Next time you’re home.”

Louis snorted, rolling them so he could slide his legs over Harry’s waist to straddle him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harold,” he said with a grin. “You’re a bloody popstar and - “ He shook his head, putting a finger over Harry’s lips when he tried to interrupt. “And I won’t be going back to England any time soon.”

Harry frowned. “Why not?” he asked, mouth moving against Louis' finger. 

Louis gave him a rueful smile and shrugged. “There’s nothing for me there,” he said after a pause and, before Harry could argue, he kissed him, long and hard and insistent. A fullstop - an end to the conversation if there ever was one. Didn’t let Harry up for air until his head was swimming.

_There’s me_ , Harry thought, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Louis' hair and deepening that kiss, turning it into a question, an conversation, a plea. _There’s going to be me._

***

“Is it possible to fall in love after only a few weeks?” Harry asked. He and Zayn were at the bar again, waiting for Louis to finish surfing. It was two days after Zayn’s arrival and, as predicted, he and Louis had become fast friends. As long as they steered clear of the topic of Harry, which seemed to be just fine with them both.

It was just fine with Harry as well because Zayn had been here two days. Which meant that he was two days closer to going home.

Five days left. 

He only had five days left on Tavarua.

But if he was being honest with himself - and, honestly, it was this close to time to leave this island, it was less about Tavarua and more about Louis. He only had five days left with Louis.

He was trying not to think about it - he really, really was - but it was impossible. Every moment spent together meant one more moment closer to...not being together and every single one of their touches had started to reflect that. Harry didn’t think it was wishful thinking (though it might have been); he really, really didn’t think he was the only one who didn’t want the end of the month to come. Who was committing every single touch, every single word, every single moment to memory. 

If Harry was honest with himself, he didn’t mind leaving Tavarua at all. He minded leaving something else so much more.

“Fall in love?” Zayn asked, drawing Harry out of his thoughts and back to the present. He turned to look at Zayn and nodded. “You think you’re in love?”

Harry nodded again before he crossed his arms on the counter and flopped down onto them. “Yeah. I - it’s possible, right? I mean, it’s not just… I used to think it might be a stupid romantic comedy thing but… but it’s possible.”

Zayn shifted closer, looking around to make sure Niall was still out of earshot, before he answered, “I think...yeah, I guess? But Harry, are you sure? I mean, it might be that...well, it’s the first time you’re really allowed to have...anything - a relationship - with a guy, yeah? Since you came out and stuff. Are you sure it isn’t just...enjoying the freedom?”

Harry shook his head adamantly. “That isn’t - it’s not like that,” he insisted. It wasn’t. It was different. Being outed - that whole thing with the models and the one night stands, and with the people he knew would keep his secret right up until he’d slipped up...those were different. All of those were different. And between being outed and now, he could have fucked other people. He wasn’t going to lie and be modest about it but he was _Harry Styles_ , even with the scandal of the outing and the nervous breakdown and everything, he still could have got laid. Easily. That wasn’t what _Louis_ was about at all. 

“It’s not,” he said again when Zayn still didn’t look convinced. “It’s… Louis is…” He let out a breath. “He’s different. He’s...I’ve never met anyone who just - it was so _easy_ , Zayn. Me and him. We just...clicked. And it was - it _is_ \- so easy.”

Zayn nodded slowly, understanding in his expression. And something else too. He was hesitating, apparently unwilling to say whatever was on his mind.

“What?” Harry prompted, reaching out to prod Zayn’s arm. 

“I just… Okay, don’t get angry,” Zayn said, and it was never a good thing when he prefaced anything like that. “But are you - is it mutual?” 

Harry blinked at him. “I...I don’t know? I mean, being in love or…?”

“The connection,” Zayn clarified slowly. “The...whatever that drew you guys together. That, you know, make you work.”

Harry frowned at him a little more. “You’re going to need to clarify.”

“I mean, are you sure that, from his side, it’s about you being connected and whatever blahblahblah or - “ Zayn took a breath. “Are you sure he’s not just fucking you because you’re famous?”

“Zayn!” Harry’s voice rose - too loud, loud enough that Niall and a few of the other customers turned to look at them. Harry forced himself to lower his voice and, instead, hissed out, “Zayn, why would you - ?”

“I’m just looking out for you,” Zayn said, putting his hand on his arm. “It’s not as impossible as you’re making it out to be, H. People do it all the time.”

“Louis' not like that,” Harry said, voice rising again and - and then there was another hand on his arm, light and placating. Not Zayn’s hand.

“I’m not fucking him because he’s famous,” Louis said calmly, tucking his fingers up under the sleeve of Harry’s t-shirt lightly. “I’m fucking him for so many other reasons - I could list them for you if you’d like - but not because he’s famous.”

Zayn didn’t look even a little embarrassed at having been caught suggesting that Louis was a star-fucker. Which was pretty impressive, really. Instead, he levelled a look at Louis without flinching and said, “There are a lot of those kinds of people in the world. How am I supposed to know that you aren’t one of them?”

Louis shrugged. “You’re not,” he said easily enough. “That’s for Harry to decide though, isn’t it?”

“Hey, hey, lads!” Niall said, crashing in the middle of their group with a tray of drinks, all bright smiles and concerned expression. He gestured - right through the middle of the conversation - for Liam to come join them. “Drinks!”

“We didn’t order - “ Zayn started, looking a little flustered at the interruption, and at Niall’s blatant disregard for...well, whatever conversation they’d been having.

“C’mon,” Niall insisted, interrupting Zayn again. Zayn blinked, looking at Harry helplessly before his attention was drawn back to Niall when a glass was thrust into his hand. “Tavarua’s no place for serious conversations about...whatever you’re talking about,” he said firmly. “Especially not at my bar. Now drink the fucking drink and enjoy.”

“Niall!” Louis said - and if Louis was a bit embarrassed by Niall being all...Niall about it, then maybe Niall had crossed a line. At least, that was what Harry would be thinking - but apparently, Niall either didn’t notice or (Harry was betting) didn’t care.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommo,” he said happily, forcing a glass into Louis’ hand and then...forcing them all to clink their glasses together, Liam included. Overall, Harry thought maybe he felt the most sorry for Liam. 

“Niall!” Louis tried again - but once again, Niall wasn’t having it.

“Listen, mate, I know you,” he said, pointing at Louis. “And Liam here will back me up on that.” He turned to Zayn. “And I’ve talked to you a lot while these two have been...busy. So like, chill the fuck out, yeah? You’ve both got this curly-haired idiot’s well-being at heart so just...be friends.”

Harry nodded, pushing his glass more firmly against the others at that. “Be friends,” he agreed, and looked at Liam, who definitely looked bewildered. 

“Friends?” he offered after a moment, and gave Zayn an earnest smile. That same earnestness that had made Harry completely unable to hate him or be jealous or think anything at all bad about him even though he spent way too much time with Louis. “Because Niall’s right. I’ve never seen Louis like this with anyone else, and I’ve known Louis a while.”

“Okay, guys!” Louis said, interrupting them, and Harry had to hide a smile when he turned his attention back to Louis and realised Louis had gone bright red. “I’m standing right here. Let’s shut up and just...drink. Drink! Hooray!” And then downed the glass very enthusiastically.

Harry smiled as he knocked back his own glass, smile widening when Louis caught his eyes and then ducked his head, blushing even more furiously before demanding another round of shots.

Definitely not one-sided then. Harry was definitely not imagining things.

***

Harry was trying not to get his hopes up - he really, really was - but there was nothing to do about it; his hopes were rising, and he’d started to imagine...so many different things, so many different scenarios and every single one of them was happy.

He _knew_ he shouldn’t get his hopes up but…

They spent almost every moment together except for those moments where Louis had to work. He still lingered until the very last moment, and came back to find him as soon as he could. Harry spent those hours in the bar, talking to Niall and Zayn, who spent more time in that place than Harry ever had - and Harry had spent a _lot_ of time there - and finishing writing the book he’d started while sitting in the very same spot. Might as well have something that was started and finished in the same place, right?

He also started to pen some new songs, played snippets of them to Louis late at night. He started writing later too when, on the second night, Louis had proven that he was actually really good with music, made comments and adjustments that made Harry’s writing even better than before.

“Why did you never say anything?” Harry asked, laughing as he noted down the changes. They could have done this so much sooner - and god, that would have been...even more amazing. And his time here - his time with Louis - had already been pretty damn amazing.

Louis shrugged a little self-consciously and, before Harry could say anything, he directed Harry’s attention back to the music. Harry leaned over and kissed him before he curled his fingers back around the guitar and tried out the new riffs. 

***

Two days before he was going to leave, Louis wouldn’t leave his side, insisting Harry come out to watch him surf. Which...Harry didn’t exactly need much convincing. 

Louis looked absolutely incredible in the water, and even all the hope in the world couldn’t help Harry ignore the pang of regret at the thought of leaving this paradise. It wouldn’t be the same at all, even if - and god, please, please, please let it happen - Louis came back with him to England. They wouldn’t have this kind of freedom, wouldn’t have the privacy. And definitely wouldn’t have the sun. Tavarua really had been everything Harry had needed and _more_.

When Louis dropped into his lap, surfboard thrown to the side and forgotten in favour of kissing Harry, laughing, wet and exhausted and _happy_ , Harry clung onto him and wished he never had to leave.

What good was being a popstar if he couldn’t have something as simple as this?

He barely wasted any time in getting Louis back to the bungalow, fucking into him, slow and hard and intimate, fucking him until he was clinging to Harry, moaning low in his throat - until he spilled between them, and curled into Harry’s arms, a different sort of wet and exhausted and happy. Harry curled around him tighter, trying to keep the thoughts back, trying to just focus on here and now and _Louis_.

By the time he’d worked up the courage to ask for what he wanted, to say a quiet, “Lou?” into the darkness, interrupting the sound of the waves breaking on the sand, Louis was already asleep.

***

“Louis,” Harry said, looking up from where he was seated, crossed-legged, on the floor, packing his bag. Everything - or, well, what he hoped was everything - had already been collected from various corners of the room and folded into neat piles around the suitcase, and Harry was methodically putting them in while Louis flopped on the bed, watching him pack.

Louis had cancelled everything just to watch Harry pack, and if that didn’t convince Harry that - maybe, just maybe - he had a chance, that things might work out - if that didn’t convince Harry to at least _try_ , Harry didn’t know what would.

“Hmm?” Louis asked, rolling over onto his front so he could see Harry properly.

Harry took a slow, not-quite steady breath, letting it out before he said, very quietly, “Come back to England.”

Louis froze. And then, very, very carefully, he asked, “What?”

Harry shifted, moving to sit next to him on the bed. “Come back to England. Please.”

Louis' expression shuttered, lips pressing into a thin line as he sat up quickly, moving _away_ from Harry. “I told you, Haz,” he said. “There’s nothing for me in England.”

“There’s _me_ ,” Harry insisted, low and earnest, reaching out for Louis - but Louis didn’t move any closer. His expression didn’t even soften - if anything, it got more closed, harder to read. Harry didn’t understand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“There’s you?” Louis asked faintly. “I should go back to England because there’s you?” Harry nodded a little uncertainly. It should have sounded like a good thing but...but it didn’t sound like Louis thought it was a good thing. Louis shook his head. “No, Harry, that’s not how that’d work.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, even more uncertain now, voice shaky - and he wasn’t even going to bother to hide it. Didn’t know if he could have if he’d tried. “Louis, what…”

“This is - this is a summer fling, Harry,” Louis said, short and clipped and...oh. That...that really hurt. Harry bit his lower lip as Louis went on. “That’s what this is, yeah? It’s...you being free to express yourself for the first time. It’s you without the paps following you, without your usual...parties and glitz and glamour and...popstardom. This is - this was a dream. A fucking dream on an island that was made for dreams like this. This isn’t...this isn’t a relationship.” Louis' voice cracked on the last word, giving him away.

Not unaffected then, and that was such a relief because...because every word had been like a knife to the heart. Hurt more than anything Harry could have imagined - more, even, than the betrayal that had lead to his very public outing.

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked, moving closer even as Louis tried to move away. Even as Louis stood up and backed away. “A fling? Is this all it was? Don’t be ridiculous, Lou. You and I both know that we’re - we’re more than that. This is more than that.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Louis insisted, wrapping his arms around himself and backing further away from Harry - backed right up until his back hit the wall. “A summer fling. When you get back to...to everything - to your life - you’ll just. You’ll forget about me. This won’t - you won’t want this.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Harry argued, shaking his head. “I won’t forget you. I won’t just… I _won’t_.”

“Why not? I mean - your _life_ \- “

“I _love you_.”

Louis' mouth shut with a snap before he just shook his head again, eyes wide, a little desperate. “No. No you don’t. Don’t say that. When you go back you’ll - “

“I’ll _what_?” Harry asked, voice rising as well. “I’ll what, Lou? What do you think I’ll do?”

“You’ll forget me.”

Harry shook his head. “No. No, I wouldn’t. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“You’re _not_. You can’t be.” 

“Why not?” Harry demanded, getting up and - and not letting Louis back away from him. Needing to reach out a touch him. Even if it was just a hand on his arm, clutching a little too tightly.

“Because you’re - you’re _you_. You’re a superstar and I’m just - “

“I’m still _me_ ,” Harry said, getting more and more desperate with each minute that passed, with each “no” from Louis' lips, with every single move Louis made to pull away from him. “And you’re you. And you’re - “

“There’s nothing for me in England. There’s - you can’t - it’ll be different back there. Don’t - you live this life of - you’re a celebrity, you’re - “

“That’s not going to change who I am,” Harry said, a note of pleading in his voice even as Louis shook his head more vehemently. 

“No. No, it will. It does. It - no. _No_ ,” Louis insisted, finally pulling out of Harry’s grip and going for the door. “England isn’t home anymore. This is - ”

“Your one single room in the staff bungalows? That isn’t a home. It’s a hiding place. Stop running away from everything - from your family’s judgement, from _yourself_ ,” Harry said, frustrated and - and the amount of _hurt_ and betrayal in the look Louis threw him was like a punch in the stomach. “Louis, I - “

“Don’t even,” Louis said, shaking his head - and fuck, Louis' voice was shaking. Harry couldn’t even begin to guess if it was hurt or anger. Or both. He’d guessed that might have been a reason...he’d guessed something about Louis' past - his family, that one fling he’d had right here on the island - that he’d never given voice to until now and he….and he had to just - he shouldn’t have thrown it out like that. Shouldn’t have thrown it at Louis like a weapon.

“Lou, I - “

“ _Don’t_ ,” Louis said, shaking his head again. “Just don’t. This is over. We’re - this is just. It’s over. Just… Go home, Harry. Go back to your life,” he said finally, dropping his eyes and opening the door. He looked up through his fringe, meeting Harry’s eyes once more. “Goodbye.”

“Louis, wait,“ Harry said, breath catching in his throat, words tripping on their way out of his mouth - feet tripping over each other as he tried to step forwards, reaching for Louis, desperation making it hard to think, to breathe. Landed hard on his knees, caught himself on his hands and choked out, “Louis, please. Wait.” 

But by the time he got his feet under him again, Louis was gone.

***

Harry shut the door to the flat behind him and dropped his bags, leaning back against the wood and taking in the sight of his flat - spotless and strangely empty and yet a bit too full at the same time - in front of him. He was glad to be home, he thought.

At the very least, he was glad not to be on a bloody plane anymore. The flights would have been long and tiring enough on their own, but the effort it had taken to ignore the inquisitive and pitying looks Zayn kept throwing his way had all but completely drained him.

Louis hadn’t turned up to see him off. Not that Harry had expected him to, even if he’d been _hoping_ he would.

But, clearly, Zayn and Niall and even Liam, who had travelled back on the same flights as them, had expected Louis to be there. They’d tried to be subtle about it but Harry hadn’t missed the way Niall had been texting rapidly on his phone or the frantic whispers the three of them had shared right up until the moment the plane had taken off.

That was when Zayn’s pitying looks had started. That was when Zayn started treating him like he was going to break any at any moment all over again.

Harry hated it.

And however weird it felt to be home again, it was better than enduring his friend’s well-meaning care.

There were about a million messages on his answering machine and so much post on the table - thank you, cleaning service - but, instead of diving into that, which would have felt too much like...like accepting this, like the end of so many different things, like having to really face reality again, Harry picked up the phone and dialled the only number that really mattered.

It took his mum about two minutes to figure out something was wrong.

“You know what, sweetie,” she said in her ear, and the tone of her voice was enough to make Harry squeeze his eyes shut against the tears. “Gemma’s been wanting to go down to London for a bit - and we miss you like _crazy_. Are we going to be imposing on you if we go and stay for a bit? I miss my baby boy.”

“Not at all, mum,” Harry promised, voice far too shaky for his liking - but it wasn’t like his mum had never heard him crying before. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been there to comfort him every single time. “I’ve missed you and Gem too. So much. I just - I’ve missed you so much.”

“We’ll see you in a couple of days then,” she said, warm and easy, and god, he wanted her to be right here _now_.

“Hey, weirdo,” Gemma’s voice came over the line, the same teasing affection he’d heard since he’d pretty much learned what words were. “Don’t get too sniffly, yeah? Especially when I’m not there to make fun of you. So save it for another couple of days. Mum’s already booking tickets.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, feeling lighter already. “I’ll go put a pea under your mattress.”

“Which is still miles better than peeing _on_ my mattress,” Gemma replied immediately, which made him laugh again. He reached up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve and took a breath. “And don’t get any ideas,” she added before her voice got further away, and his mum came back on the line.

“Go and get some sleep, darling,” she said kindly. “Gemma and I will get there lunchtime tomorrow. Two days was too long a wait.”

Harry swallowed hard because...god, his mum was the best. Knew exactly what he needed even when he didn’t know it himself. “Thanks mum,” he said softly, waited until he heard her hum a reply. “See you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you more, baby boy,” she said, warm and familiar and _home_.

“Love you most,” he replied before he hung up the phone.

***

Life went on. 

Things weren’t exactly the same as they’d been before Harry had been outed, before he’d taken the break - before Tavarua - but certain things weren’t exactly different either. He got up, went to work - whether that was spending time in the studio working on his new music or at photoshoots or at interviews - went out with friends, came home, went to sleep. Did it all over again the next day.

There were a few notable differences, of course. For one thing, he didn’t need to be so careful about who he was seen with and where. 

Having the first interview since the whole thing kicked off being one with Nick Grimshaw was a stroke of genius on Zayn and Paul’s parts. Because Harry had no doubt it was those two people who orchestrated it. 

Nick had been _lovely_ to him. Friendly and understanding and just all-round brilliant, talking about his sexuality only when the matter came up and made it seem like it was nothing at all - not compared to everything else there was to talk about. Harry had always liked him well enough - had always respected him for being out and proud of it, for one thing - but this had solidified his opinions even more. Also, he just...he got on with Nick - got on well enough with him that when Nick had asked if he’d wanted to go out for drinks after the show, Harry had gladly accepted.

The closer they got, of course, the more the rumours flew. Harry didn’t particularly care - because, fuck what anyone else thought, Nick was one of the few people Harry felt like he didn’t have to pretend around, and he _understood_ Harry like other people and - just… he wasn’t letting other people ruin this the way they’d ruined so many other things in his life.

It was a little bit weird how people seemed so interested in their friendship, in their private lives, in trying to figure out “are they, aren’t they”. When Harry mentioned it to Nick, Nick had just shrugged and patted him on the shoulder. “They’ll do that,” he’d said. “Until you’re officially “with” someone, they’ll keep trying to figure it out. Like, because we’re gay, we’re probably fucking every man who’s even ever slightly hinted that he’s not straight that we’re seen with. So…” Nick gestured between them. “We’re both gay. We obviously can’t be just friends. That’s not how “the gays” work, you see?”

Harry had stared at him, incredulous, frowning, trying to figure things out - and Nick had flapped his hand at him uselessly and pretended to do a little dance with an imaginary feather-boa, singing, “the gays are back in town!” - out of tune and just plain terribly - and Harry had just lost it.

***

“That’s a great story,” the interviewer - a beautiful young woman with bright blue hair and warm brown eyes called Jade that, a few months ago, Harry would probably have been immediately linked to - said, laughing a little as she shook her head, glancing down at the paper in front of her as Harry beamed back at her. She hesitated for a moment before seeming to steel herself and, for a moment, Harry didn’t get it - couldn’t possibly understand what could have made her have to do that, considering they’d already talked a bit about his sexuality, his breakdown...all “touchy” topics. And then she asked her question, and Harry _got it_.

“I have to ask… You and Nick Grimshaw.”

Harry blinked. “Me and Grimmy...what?”

“Are you or are you not an item?” 

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise before he burst out laughing. “Oh god, I can’t believe you’re actually asking me this,” he said as soon as he could manage, trying to school his expression back into something resembling serious. “I - uh, I know there’s a lot of speculation about me and Nick, but no, we’re just friends. Good friends, but just friends.”

She nodded. “Well, I know there’ll be some disappointed people out there but...let’s move on to the next question, because this is also something I know a lot of people are wondering. _Is_ there someone?”

Harry’s mind went blank. Well, almost blank. Only warm, sun-kissed skin and endless mischief and the world’s most beautiful smile came to mind, and it actually took him a little too long to shake his head. Swallow hard and shake his head again. “No,” he said quietly.

Jade’s eyebrows both shot up. “That...sorry to say it, Harry, but that wasn’t very convincing.”

He gave her a small, rueful smile. “I...yeah. It’s - there was someone,” he explained. “But it didn’t work out.”

Jade looked genuinely sympathetic and, though Harry could see her producer waving at her to continue, she ignored him and changed the subject. “So your own love life isn’t the romantic comedy that your book is then?”

Harry shook his head sadly, trying to keep up the smile. Easier, when she was clearly trying to do the same for him.

She gave him another sympathetic look. “Let’s talk about your book instead, then. How do you feel about Half a Heart just...blowing everything out of the water like this? The preorder numbers are out of this world, and the critics’ reviews have been glowing! And it’s already been chosen to be adapted into a movie. How do you feel?”

“It’s mind-blowing,” Harry said honestly, and it was definitely easier to talk about something else - about the book. Even if the book - if everything about the book and the movie it was about to adapted into - reminded him of Louis. It was easier than thinking about _Louis_. “I never expected it at all.”

“World famous popstar and bestselling author,” Jade said, laughing. “You even scored a lot of the soundtrack to the upcoming movie. What next, Harry Styles? Will you be _directing_ Half a Heart yourself too? I hear they’re going to be filming it in Fiji.”

Harry shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Maybe...or maybe I’ll start my own line of radiators or something. Really branch out into something new.”

Because he wasn’t sure he could go back to Fiji again. Even if he desperately, desperately wanted to.

***

“Ready to go back out there?” Zayn asked, gesturing to the door that would lead him back out to WH Smiths.

There were still...a lot of people out there waiting for him. It was his first official book signing, surreal as that was, and it was the first time he’d be signing anything that wasn’t just his CD or a poster or concert tickets. An actual book that he’d written and had published. That people had actually read and enjoyed.

Before today, he’d signed exactly one book before he’d sent it to Fiji. He didn’t even know if it had ever been received.

For the last few months, he’d been trying hard to do anything but think about Tavarua and Louis - but of course, he’d failed miserably. The entire book did nothing but bring back memories of Tavarua. And almost every single memory of Tavarua came with a memory of Louis.

Try as he might - and try as anyone else might - he couldn’t get Louis out of his head. Or his heart. But that hadn’t stopped him from trying.

Since coming home, he’d caved to it only once. When he’d held his first published copy of the book in his hand and, on a whim, he’d scribbled on the front page and sent it off.

_Please come home._

He hadn’t heard anything back. He wasn’t sure why he’d been expecting to.

“Harry?” Zayn said again, resting a light hand on his arm. 

Harry shook himself out of the daze and gave Zayn a sheepish smile, finishing the glass of water in his hand before he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m ready.”

Zayn nodded, mouth opening to say something when his phone vibrated in his hand. He immediately turned his attention away from Harry to read the message before tapping in a reply quickly, frowning a bit in concentration.

Harry blinked at him and waited, raising an eyebrow in question when Zayn looked up again.

Zayn had the grace to look embarrassed. “Ah, it’s…” He let out a sigh of surrender, apparently unable to come up with a convincing lie. “It’s Niall,” he said finally. “He’s back in the UK and...well, he wants to meet up. So.”

“Oh,” Harry said and, for just a moment, he considered asking about Louis - before he made himself shake the desire to know off. Because along with the desire to know came just pure _want_. Came the need to accept that, every single day, dramatic as it sounded, he actually _ached_ to have Louis beside him again. Felt like he was missing something all the time without Louis there.

Ridiculous. That was probably what Zayn would say. 

Or, Harry reconsidered, maybe not, considering the little smile on his face as he texted Niall back. Maybe he wouldn’t think it was so ridiculous after all.

Harry was about to ask Zayn - or, more precisely, ask Zayn to ask Niall - about Louis when Zayn looked up abruptly from the phone with a nod. “Right, sorry. Yes. Outside. Let’s go.” And dragged Harry back out into the store, guided him back to the signing table, making Harry go back to work when he went back to messaging Niall - the little traitor.

He was so immersed in the signing - “Thank you, love.” Sign. “Who am I making this out to?” Sign. “Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure.” Sign. “Thank you” - that he almost didn’t hear the commotion. And even then, he almost didn’t look up - except that the girl next in the line had turned a little so Harry could see past the wall of people to the shop floor where several members of security were trying to hold back a struggling person.

Zayn was rushing forwards towards the group and -

“Wait - I just - I’m not - Zayn! - Listen, I already have a signed copy, can I just - “ Harry recognised that voice. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Let him through,” he shouted - had to try again before he got anything but air past his lips - and then had to stand up and shout _louder_ for the security team to actually hear him. “For the - _Paul_ , let him through _now_.”

The entire store went completely silent, crowd and security all taking a step back and -

There he was. There _Louis_ was. Actually _there_ , in the flesh, looking a little worn out, more than a bit exhausted, hair longer than Harry remembered - and god, actual stubble on his chin - but fuck, he was right there. Looking at Harry.

“Harry,” Louis said, voice soft, but god, Harry heard it as if he’d shouted it, sound traveling through the room and straight into Harry’s heart. Louis took a hesitant step forwards and - 

Harry _moved_. Couldn’t stand to be apart for another moment. He vaulted over the table and off the stage, crossed the room in two strides, just as Louis moved towards him. Harry reached out and grabbed Louis as soon as he was close enough, pulled him in and kissed him without a moment of hesitation.

Just _kissed him_. Slow and sweet, let it deepen, pressed in harder, more desperate - trying to take every word they said that they shouldn’t have and trying to say everything that they should have said. Took and gave and shared and, _god_ , it was perfect. It was brilliant. It was _Louis_. Harry didn’t even think it was possible but...but it was. Louis was _here_.

“I thought - I thought you had no reason to come back,” he said breathlessly when they broke for air, pressing their foreheads together and staying there. “I thought you weren’t - I thought this - “

“I don’t want to run away anymore,” Louis interrupted, kissing him, soft with apologies and warm with promise. “You were right. I was trying to get away from it all. I’ve been hiding from...from everything. For years. But I’m done running.”

Harry made a soft, wounded sound in the back of his throat before pressing in for another kiss, clinging a little more tightly to Louis. “Good,” he said. “Because I’m never letting you go again. Fuck, Lou…You came back. You actually came back here for me.”

“For you,” Louis agreed. “But also for me. I just...England’s home. Or, well, it was home once and I want it to feel like home again. I’ve missed it.” And then quieter, “I’ve missed you.”

“You came back,” Harry repeated, not quite able to believe it. He should because Louis was here - _here_ \- and he was clinging on for dear life in the middle of WH bloody Smiths. “You’re here. I - you’re actually here.”

“I saw your interview,” Louis said, tucking his face in against Harry’s neck and just breathing him in for a few minutes before he pulled back. “That one where you said - “ Louis let out a soft laugh. “You know, for a while, I’d actually thought you and Nick Grimshaw were a thing. Not that I was keeping tabs on you, mind you,” Louis said, blushing, shaking his head before determinedly soldiering on, not letting Harry interrupt him. “But yeah, I saw that interview. Where you said you’d had someone and it hadn’t worked out.”

“Lou…” Harry started, not really sure what he should saying but feeling like he needed to say _something_.

Louis stopped his words with a soft, reassuring kiss before he pulled back again just enough to meet Harry’s eyes. “I love you,” he said, eyes bright, lips tugging up into a soft, hopeful smile. “Harry Styles, I love you so much.”

And it was the best damn thing Harry had ever heard in his life.

***

“Ready?” Louis asked, squeezing Harry’s hand, grinning at him when Harry turned away from the window to look at him.

Harry laughed and squeezed his hand right back. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I mean, it’s your first premiere.”

“It’s _your_ first premiere,” Louis pointed out, laughing with him.

“For my movie, maybe, but I’ve walked on red carpets before.”

“So’ve I! Albeit, I wasn’t supposed to be on the red carpet but…” Louis' grin just widened when Harry guffawed, loud and obnoxious - what Louis considered his favourite Harry laugh. Harry usually pretended to be a bit offended - he was a classy thing, he was! - the same way that Louis pretended to hate it when Harry told him he loved it when Louis giggled, but Harry secretly loved that Louis found something so...obnoxious endearing.

Actually, all things considered, it probably wasn’t much of a secret. Harry thought Louis was _brilliant_ , and that wasn’t a secret at all. Especially considering Harry could and would gush about him to anyone and everyone in any situation given half the chance. It had made Louis a minor celebrity in his own right - had his own fans and everything - and while Louis really tried to stay out of the spotlight, tried to give people as few occasions as possible to say he was riding on Harry’s coattails, he got noticed.

Rightly so, if anyone asked Harry (which, usually, no one did, but Harry was happy to share anyway) because Louis was bloody _gorgeous_. And brilliant. Did Harry mention brilliant? Because Louis was.

As things were, however, Louis only ever let Harry put him in the spotlight on occasion, such as premieres and award shows and anywhere that required a plus one. And on every occasion, so Zayn told him, Harry would _allegedly_ look at Louis like Louis was the superstar and he was Louis' plus one not the other way around. Harry had tried to argue this once - innocent until proven guilty and all that - but he’d been shown several photographs where even he had to admit he looked a bit like a lovesick puppy.

Who could blame him though, right? His boyfriend was clearly the most stunning human being in the world.

“This is your premiere too,” Harry reminded him. After all, the story was based on Louis - on them, really, but Louis had...well. It was pretty obvious that it was based on Louis, and pretty much everyone had figured out it was their love story after their incredible public and dramatic reunion. Not only that, but a lot of the songs they were using on the soundtrack were the ones Louis had helped Harry write in Fiji so Louis shared the writing credits in those - and, in one song Harry had recorded and released himself, Harry had even managed to cajole Louis into singing the backup vocals for him.

They sounded _perfect_ together - and this time, Harry could safely say that it wasn’t just in his own opinion.

“It’s more yours than mine,” Louis pointed out. “I’m just the arm candy today.”

“You’re never just the arm candy,” Harry argued, but he was more than happy to let Louis tug him into a soft, reassuring kiss.

“It’s brilliant,” Louis promised. “The book, the music, the film. It’s all brilliant. Everyone loves it, and everyone loves you.”

Harry smiled at him, warm and easy. “And I love you.” Harry leaned in for another kiss. “Thank you. None of this would be possible without you.”

Despite Harry’s attempts at persuasion (there were many of them, and he was very convincing), Louis still wouldn’t even consider a career in music. He wouldn’t even let Harry credit his backing vocals work. It had bothered Harry at first because, really, he wanted Louis to find something he loved - only partly because Harry was still a bit scared Louis would want to go back to Tavarua - but as Louis settled back into London, and Harry settled into living with Louis, Harry _settled_. And he stopped worrying because Louis proved he was perfectly capable of finding things to do himself, such as playing footie with a few of Harry’s (and now Louis') friends a couple of times a week.

What Louis didn’t know - and Harry was definitely looking forward to him finding out - was that a few of those friends had been impressed enough by Louis' footballing abilities that they might have mentioned it to some people and… well. There would soon be - if it was what Louis wanted - a shirt with _Tomlinson_ across the back - and Harry would be the most stylish and the most enthusiastic WAG (or would that change to WAP?) in the stadium.

They were going to be the Posh and Becks of their generation, and they were going to be brilliant.

“Ready?” Louis asked again as the car pulled up in front of the carpet. 

Harry squeezed his hand and nodded, smiling brightly. “With you here? Always.”

“You ridiculously cheesy fucker,” Louis said, laughing as Harry opened the door.

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning as he pulled Louis out of the car after him, immediately reaching out to tuck Louis in against his side. He leaned in to press his mouth against Louis' ear. “But you love me for it.”

Had that been too cheesy? Maybe. Probably. But Harry knew - and he knew Louis also knew - that it was also completely and utterly true. He would always be ready for anything if he had Louis next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I want to say a huge thank you to you guys for...you know, finishing reading this! Next, I have to thank Leah and Michelle for being absolutely invaluable throughout the writing process, handholding and calming me down and cheering me on, and then being even more amazing by betaing and generally just making this thing so much better than it would have been. This fic wouldn't have happened without you girls. ILU so much.
> 
> I changed my big bang idea about a million times before finally being lured by [Louis in Fiji](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v478/dea_liberty/fiji.jpg) and him looking incredible in [a wetsuit](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v478/dea_liberty/louiswetsuit.png) \- and a little (or maybe a lot) by Harry in his [tiny yellow shorts](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v478/dea_liberty/yellowshorts.png), and ended up writing this thing. So I thought I'd share my inspiration with you.
> 
> This is my first time doing a Big Bang and I had a great time! Thanks again for coming on this journey with me. If you'd like, please feel free to come and say hi over at [my tumblr](http://dea.tumblr.com/).


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